#fic research is of course connected to a But What If They Banged On That Train? fic (what a classic subgenre of fanfic that is) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1987vampire · 3 years

Text

A Good Something? | Judd Birch

Fandom: Big Mouth Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: a hurt racoon, the f slur, just a lot of cussing. Request: None! A/N: This isn’t established Judd x reader, this is meeting him for the first time so if I write more fics for him, I have something I can refer y’all back to :) If y’all want to see more Judd, an ACTUAL judd x reader, I can give y’all that ALSO the reader has dyed hair in this - not blue - it’s not super important but there’s a line in here that references it. Extra:

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” your words were stressed as you slammed on the breaks. The rain made it hard to see; it wasn’t your fault that the animal had run into the middle of the road. You weren’t even going that fast, they should have been able to hear you.

You flung your door open harsher than you meant to, but you had to move quickly in case someone came speeding down the road, and you ended up bleeding out right next to whatever you had hit. The road was slick underneath your feet. You almost slipped and fell as you skidded to a stop in front of them. It was a racoon, a fat one at that, and it was staring up at you with big doe eyes. His leg was twisted, and he was letting out small grunts of pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little buddy,” You cried. “Can I pick you up? I’ll find somewhere to take care of you, I promise.” You hadn’t really expected an answer- it was an animal after all – but he nodded up at you, reaching his little paws out in hopes that you would help. You paused for a moment, taking in the situation and trying to figure out how to pick him up without hurting him.

You reached an arm under his butt and the other under his neck so you wouldn’t jostle his leg too much. He made little chirping sounds as you steadily walked over to your car, using your head as a shield so he wouldn’t get rain in his eyes. You let out a quiet stream of ‘I’m sorry’s as you did so. You made it into your car just in time to close the door as someone sped down, narrowly missing you as they went.

The little racoon shivered in the passenger seat, but you covered him in blankets and spare clothes you kept in the back, turning the heat in your car on high, trying to dry him and heat him up at the same time. He stared up at you thankfully as you put the car in gear, driving home even slower than before, never going over twenty-five-miles-an-hour.

Once you had reached your apartment, you had to sneak him in in hopes that your shitty landlord wouldn’t notice. He had a strict no animals policy, but this was a bit more important. Fortunately, you could sneak past his office by telling the raccoon to be quiet, since he seemed to be good at listening to directions somehow, and hiding him underneath the pile of clothes, passing him off as laundry.

Finally, inside the comforts of your apartment, you laid him down on the couch and set to researching what to do. After a few calls to a few vet offices and a lot of google searches, you were able to give him a makeshift cast and lay him in a way that would be best for his recovery. He was still talking in his little racoon language as you went. It really looked like he was trying to tell you something, but unfortunately, you were human and could not understand him.

That was until he held your hand in his little paws and pulled them to his neck. How had you not noticed the skinny collar he was wearing? His thick fur had almost completely covered it. Really, it wasn’t even a collar but a thick piece of cord with a circle nameplate in the middle.

You fiddled with it, reading the information attached. ‘Contact Judd. 555-4200’ was engraved onto it in someone’s personal handwriting instead of with a machine. “You know it’s illegal for someone to own a racoon around here, right,” you told him. The racoon made a noise of disapproval and fiddled with the collar again. “Do you want me to take it off?” He hissed in displeasure, making you stop abruptly. “Call him?” He nodded enthusiastically. “You’re a strange little guy, you know that, right?”

You pulled out your phone and dialed the number, tapping your foot against the floor anxiously. It took a few rings, and you were sure he wouldn’t pick up, when a deep voice answered the phone.

“Do you know what fucking time it is, right now?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned towards the first clock you could find—three o’clock in the morning. “I- I’m sorry. I can call back in the morning if you want. I just have this racoon with me, and his ankle is twisted because I accidentally hit him, and he had your number on his neck, and I- I-“

“Racoon?” His voice cut you off, and you could tell that he was waking up at the information. “You hit one of my fucking racoons?”

“He ran out into the middle of the road when I was driving. It was raining, so I could barely see, and I couldn’t swerve to miss him because there was a car on one side of the road and trees on the other. I wrapped his leg, and he’s resting, but he wanted me to call you, so here we are.”

He let out a few grumbles, and my fingers instinctively rose to my face so I could bite at my nails. “Fucking hell. Why was he in the middle of the road?” It was a rhetorical question, but you had almost wanted to respond even though you didn’t have an answer. “Does he have any distinctive marks on him? A missing toe, clipped ear, maybe he has uneven stripes.” Your eyes fell on the racoon again. He looked pretty normal besides the leg.

Almost like he knew what you were talking about, the racoon pulled one of his hands up to his forehead. After you pushed some of his fur to the side, you knew what he was pointing at. “He’s showing me that he has a scar on his forehead - like he split his forehead or something.”

“Of course it’s fucking Gerard – the fat fuck.”

You frowned at the statement. “He’s not that fat.”

“I mean the sentence in the most loving hatred filled way I can mean it. He knows I don’t mean it. Can you give the phone to him?”

This was the weirdest fucking situation you had ever been in. “Oh yeah, I guess.” you placed the phone in the racoon’s hand, and he made a chirp as a hello. You could hear Judd’s voice lowly in the speaker as he talked to him, the racoon making noises of acknowledgement as he went. You could make out very little besides him asking if you were taking care of him and then berating him for being stupid. The racoon – well, Gerard – kept trying to talk to him, but Judd refused to let up, barely giving him a moment to speak even if he did understand him.

After a few minutes, Gerard pushed the phone towards me, and I took it back. “So, what do you want me to do with him. Like, I can take him to yours, since I guess he belongs to you, or-“

“Fuck off. What are you – the feds? Give me your address, I’m not letting you see my shit.”

“Well, usually people ask me on a date before seeing my place, but-“ the words had slipped from my mouth before I thought about what I was saying, and my eyes immediately widened with embarrassment. “Oh my god- I’m sorry-“

He laughed loudly and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Well, we can think about that after I get the fat fucking faggot in your house.”

Your arms crossed. “You better part of that community if you’re using their slurs, fuckface.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mused. “Give me your address. I’m getting in my car.”

After giving him the information, you hung up, itching at your arm as you stared at Gerard. “He isn’t very nice, huh,” you told him. He chirped and shook his head as if defending him. “Is he really mean or is it a front?” He chirped at the second part, and I smiled. “Well, he’ll be here soon.”

And soon it was. It only took him about ten minutes before you heard a loud knocking on your door, banging more like. You jumped from sitting beside Gerard to the door, peeking out into the dark hallway, the latch still connected. “Judd?”

On the other side of the door was a decently tall man with black and blue hair, his sides shaved til it was only stubble. He was clad in a gray hoodie and black jeans, gray converse on his feet. His face was set in a glare as he stared at you. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

You shut the door and unlatched it, opening it wider so he could come in. “You knock like my landlord.”

“Landlord?” He pushed into your apartment, his sights set on the racoon lounging on your cheap couch. “You don’t look old enough to have a landlord.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m nineteen. This is my apartment.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “And you let some strange man in? Pretty stupid if you ask me.”

You frowned and pursed your lips. “I can kick you out- keep your racoon if you don’t start acting nice.”

“You could definitely try.” He picked up Gerard’s leg, inspecting it. “You did a good job with this. Almost as good as my work.”

“He was a good patient.”

Judd scoffed, sticking his hands underneath Gerard to pick him up just as you had earlier that night. “He was probably just basking in a pretty girl’s attention.”

Pretty? A smile was climbing onto your face. He was pretty, too, if he didn’t have such a sour attitude.

His eyes fell onto yours as he turned. “I like your hair by the way. The color suits you.” You ran your hand through your dyed hair, suddenly very conscious of how you looked. “You should try blue next time.” Gerard made a loud noise in his arms and reached out to you. Judd frowned down at him. “You had your fun, dumbass, but you’ve got to go home now. I’m sure the others are worried about you.”

“Others?”

Judd looked back at you. “Yeah, I was – uh – training a battalion of racoons to kill my younger brother.” He groaned quietly. “Now they’re good for catering and attacking intruders, but they refused to hurt him. Got a few scars because of it.”

You chuckled quietly and shook your head. “You sure are something, alright.”

His lips upturned the slightest bit into a tiny smile. “Is that a good something?”

“Sure, we can say that.”

You opened the door for him as he started taking strides towards it. He paused right past the entryway, something sitting on his tongue. “Try not to hit any more racoons, alright?”

Your fingers drummed along the door, and you laughed. “I’ll be sure to call you if I do. Just in case.”

He was already walking away when he responded. “You have my number.”

You hesitated on shutting the door right away, choosing to listen to him begin to berate the racoon as he walked down the hall, something along the lines of, ‘you make me come out in the middle of the night, scared shitless. You could have died, you fucking cunt.” He continued as he disappeared out of sight, but you didn’t even have the heart to ask him to cover the racoon as he left, preferring to just deal with your landlords berating the next day.

#judd birch #judd birch x reader #judd big mouth #judd big mouth x reader #big mouth #big mouth x reader

1K notes · View notes

teacupfulofstarshine · 3 years

Text

jet-lagged heart

summary: logan’s research in antarctica has finally finished, he has job offers from three of pretoria’s major universities, and there are three plane tickets sitting in his backpack. he’s going to south africa to be with virgil. he’s going home.

(or: a fic about the first time virgil and logan meet in person, set in @lovelylogans absolutely phenomenal sense8-inspired 2021 big bang fic)

CW: minor anxiety

wordcount: ~1.7k

pairing: romantic analogical, platonic sides

read it on ao3!

It has long become habit for Logan to wear his earpiece constantly. He can’t remember the last time he took it off other than sleeping and showering - he puts it on daily along with his glasses.

“Hello there,” a familiar voice says, a familiar weight draping around his shoulders. Logan smiles, leaning back and tipping his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “How are you, hmmm?”

“Excited,” Logan says. Virgil presses a kiss against his cheek, and Logan feels the uncontrollable urge to stim. One hand flaps at his side, and he can feel his cluster flapping in unison - a surge of joy from Patton, fond exasperation from Roman and Remus, mild annoyance from Janus, and nothing but lovelovelove from Virgil.

“Today is the day. When does the plane leave?”

Logan glances down at his wrist, only to realize that he isn’t wearing his watch. He blinks, and suddenly the arm in front of him is bare and tattooed with a bright blue paw-print-patterned watch on it. He blinks again, sees himself and Virgil reflected in his mirror, and quickly does some mental math. “Approximately four hours from now.”

“Did your virtual interviews go well, umthandi?”

“I have offers from three separate universities around Pretoria. Will you help me select which offer I should accept?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, kochanek,” Logan hums, turning to nuzzle into Virgil’s stubbly cheek.

“I have your bedroom prepared in our apartment,” Virgil says. Logan turns to look up at him in confusion.

“Are we not sharing a bed?”

Virgil flushes slightly, and Logan feels him rubbing at the back of his neck. “I know that sometimes you get anxious when crowded, and sometimes you get overwhelmed by the presence of other people. I thought it would be best to prepare a place where you could retreat and rest from the world.”

Logan laughs, and he feels Patton laughing with him (even if Patton doesn’t really know what he’s laughing about.) “What?” Virgil says, and when Logan turns around he sees Virgil standing in front of a jacaranda tree in his yard, pouting.

“You do not count as people, kochanek. None of our cluster does. You haven’t for some time.” Virgil becomes even more embarrassed - Logan can feel it surge in his chest. He leans forward and gently kisses Virgil’s nose. “I appreciate your sensitivity. It’s one of the many, many things I love about you.”

Virgil presses a hand to Logan’s cheek, and Logan leans into the warmth before he can stop himself. He watches Virgil smile at him, blinks and sees the lovestruck expression on his own face, and closes his eyes happily.

*~*~*~*~*

“Did you buy the -”

“Yes, Janus,” Logan sighs, swinging his carryon over his shoulder and tapping at the Bluetooth. “For the seventeenth time, I used the money that you and Roman wired me to buy tickets for the seats around me so that no one will notice me talking to myself when I have to take the earpiece out.”

“You had better be bloody cautious.” Logan takes a step into Janus’s office, careful not to disturb the papers spread across the carpeted floor in an intricate web. Janus, sitting in the middle of the madness, reaches out and underlines something in dark yellow highlighter. “I will not have someone sending me psychic pain because they were stupid enough to get caught and experimented upon.”

Logan is familiar enough with his cluster to feel the worrypanicfearterror don’tgetintotroubleican’tgetyououtofpleasepleaseplease vibrating in Janus’s chest. He reaches out and squeezes Janus’s shoulder, pretending he doesn’t notice when Janus drops his head briefly and squishes his hand. “I promise to be careful, Janus.”

“You better,” Janus says. Logan takes another step and glances up at the arrival and departure board to find his gate.

*~*~*~*~*

“Had to take the earpiece out for the flight, huh?” Remus says, lounging upside-down in the empty seat next to Logan. Logan, who is focusing on his e-reader, offers a discreet nod. “Sucks to suck, my man. Sucks to suck.”

Logan doesn’t verbally respond, and Remus takes it as full permission to keep going. “Your boyfriend was telling me all about poison plants the other day - did you know that a deadly nightshade and a tomato are in the same family?”

“Solanum lycopersicum,” Logan murmurs, glancing around to ensure that no one is paying attention to him. Remus babbles on about plants for a few more minutes, flipping himself upright and flopping into Logan’s lap. “Do you mind?”

“I don’t, actually, thank you for asking!” Remus laughs. Logan puts his hand below his e-reader, where no one else will see it but Remus, and flips him off. “You’re gonna have to come visit the rest of us soon or we’ll think you’re playing favorites.”

Logan looks directly at the exaggerated fake pout on Remus’s face and says, “I do have a favorite. It is not you.”

Remus rolls his eyes and slides off the seat, disappearing before he hits the floor.

*~*~*~*~*

Patton looks up with a mouthful of sandwich to see Logan slumped in the air in front of him, one hand pressed against his forehead.

“Rough flight?”

“Travel headache, plus a visit,” Logan mutters. Patton hums, narrowing his eyes just slightly to judge which member Logan saw by the frown pinching his face.

“Remus?” A nod. “I’m sure he meant well.”

“Unexpected.”

“Don’t you have your earpiece in?”

Logan shakes his head briefly. “Not on a plane.”

“Ah.” Patton reaches out and gently pats Logan’s shoulder. “How much longer until you land in Pretoria?”

Logan glances down at his watch, then in front of him. Patton blinks and he’s sitting next to Logan, staring at a screen at the front of the plane that tells the expected arrival time. “Ninety minutes, give or take.”

Patton leans over and gently presses against Logan’s shoulder with the side of his head. “Hang in there, Lo. I know you can do it.”

Logan sighs, again, but his face relaxes a little. Patton blinks again, and Logan disappears just as his students return from the lunchroom.

*~*~*~*~*

“Virgil, calm yourself down,” Andisiwe says. She offers Virgil a cup of coffee, but he doesn’t take it, too busy pacing back and forth in front of the arrivals and departures board.

“The flight was supposed to be in ten minutes ago,” Virgil says. “The board still says that the flight was supposed to be in ten minutes ago, so why isn’t the flight in?”

“You cannot control the weather,” Andisiwe says. She sets the cup of coffee down on the small airport end table next to her own depleted cup, her purse, and the book Virgil brought in a fruitless effort to distract himself. “We knew that he might experience some turbulence leaving Antarctica, to say nothing of the layovers and connecting flights and the myriad of other things that come with air travel. You would know if he had been hurt or killed, would you not?”

Virgil’s entire body runs ice-cold at the mention, and he takes a few quick, panicked inhales. He feels reassurance flood his body - his mother’s hand on his shoulder, Patton’s arm around him, Roman’s hand on his back, right between his shoulderblades. He feels Logan’s hand slide into his, and he exhales shakily.

“You’re right,” he says, speaking to his mother and his cluster in unison. “Thank you.”

Patton and Logan both squeeze gently, Roman rubs his back and pats him a few times, and his mother smiles at him knowingly.

“Has he arrived, then?” she asks.

Virgil blinks, and he’s sitting in a plane, watching Logan collect his luggage from an overhead compartment and head down the aisle. He blinks again, and he’s back with his mother.

“He’s offboarding now,” Virgil sighs. Andisiwe pats his shoulder and takes a seat next to the end table she’s claimed, taking a sip of her coffee. Virgil takes a hasty swig of his own before turning back to the gate.

It isn’t long before he spots a familiar face, backpack and duffel bag slung over his shoulders and rolling suitcase behind him. Logan’s hair is slightly mussed, glasses smudged, tie loosened. Virgil blinks and he’s looking at himself, taking in his own wide eyes and spreading grin and feeling an immeasurable amount of love well up in his chest. He blinks again, view changing but love remaining, and Logan is smiling at him, speeding up to a not-quite jog as he weaves through the crowd.

“Logan,” Virgil breathes, reaching out as Logan releases the handle of his suitcase and slips his bags off his shoulders. He spreads his arms, and Logan slides into him effortlessly. Virgil buries his face into Logan’s hair and inhales the familiar scent of shampoo and body wash and Logan that haunted him all those months Logan was in Antarctica. He feels himself slip briefly into Logan’s body, feels strong arms around him and kisses being pressed into his hair repeatedly (he hadn’t even known he was kissing Logan’s head) and hears a rabbit-rapid heartbeat.

“I have missed you,” Logan sighs softly, and Virgil lets his whole body relax around Logan’s.

*~*~*~*~*

“Is the apartment too small?” Virgil asks, anxiously opening the door and shooing Logan inside. He’d insisted on taking the majority of Logan’s luggage, despite his protests; Logan just smiles fondly and steps into the living room. It’s furnished with a television, a sofa, a small bookshelf in front of the window full of plants, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on the wall. Logan notes with increasing joy that there are two whole shelves cleared off for him to put books on, once he unpacks or has his mother send some from Poland.

He can see over a small dividing wall into the kitchen, with a table in the center and two chairs. There’s a hallway leading down to an open door, through which Logan can see glimpses of a toilet and bathtub, and one door on either side of the hallway; he presumes those lead to the bedrooms.

“Is it okay?” Virgil repeats.

“it is perfect,” Logan says. “Truthfully, the specifications of the apartment do not matter. We could live anywhere in the world so long as we lived together. The apartment is wonderful because it is ours.”

Virgil takes Logan’s face, hands warm, and Logan leans up to kiss him again.

#starshinewrites #annalise tag!#this was inspired by annalise's incredible sense8 au #i read her fic seven times in a row and this idea Would Not Leave until i wrote it #i hope you like it lise!!!#ilysm <3

47 notes · View notes

narakurosaki · 3 years

Text

title: need you now

summary: it’s ed’s first night in creta, and he’s quickly discovering just how alone he is in a new country.

rating: t

word count: 3118

a/n: @wlwinry is to thank for the title suggestion, as well as how the fic ended. tysm! also, this is more of a character study on ed with some edwin sprinkled in towards the end!

read on ao3!

The ceiling fan blades, white and free of dust, spin at a fast rate, creating a strong breeze against his face. His golden bangs whip against his skin. His eyes stare at the light fixtures hanging from the fan’s center. He blinks frequently, the artificial breeze drying out his eyes. The mechanism within the fan ticks, an irritating sound that fortunately fills the silence of the hotel room.

He lies atop his mattress, arms folded behind his head, right leg thrown across his left. The only thing he’s taken off of his body are his shoes; they’ve been abandoned beside the door, leaving his flesh foot covered only by his sock. After seven days aboard a train, Edward is overjoyed to be in an actual bed rather than a bunk in a cramped sleeper car. The city of Cirstan sat just beyond Creta’s borders; a beautiful city with tall buildings and various factories. The thick black smoke polluted the air, but in the heart of Cirstan, the sky was as blue as could be. Cars whizzed past as he walked down the sidewalk, forgoing the map provided to him and asking passersby for directions to the best hotel in the city. Those kind enough to help a foreigner pointed him toward the Obsidian, an upscale hotel with newly renovated rooms and an excellent complimentary breakfast. He’d booked a room as soon as he’d approached the front desk, sliding a fifty-dollar Cretan bill into the clerk’s hands. It was enough payment for a week’s stay. A bellboy had been kind enough to offer to carry his luggage and accompany him to his room, though Ed had politely declined. He would find his room no problem, given the experience he’d had traveling from a young age. And find it he did—a room on the fifth floor numbered 515.

Edward had thrown his luggage and coat on the nearby chair, removed his oxfords, and collapsed atop his bed where he remained throughout the evening.

His muscles have stiffened after limited movement aboard several trains. The walk from the station to the hotel had slightly helped, but the aching joints proved difficult to ignore. Thankfully, he need only worry about only three joints giving him pain; such was the advantage of automail. Though his nerves were connected in order to move the prosthetic, pain was never felt, even upon damage. His port was the only source of pain, and that occurred only on rainy days.

He shuts his eyes in hope of sleep finding him quickly, but the ticking of the ceiling fan drives him mad. It seems to echo in the spacious room, growing louder with every second tick heard. He grits his teeth, opens his eyes, and resumes his staring at the ceiling fan.

Edward wasn’t a stranger to noise as he tried to sleep. He had spent four years in hotel rooms with a walking, talking suit of armor. It wasn’t uncommon for Alphonse to hit his head against something as he stood, or for his joints to screech with even the simplest of movements. There had been times when Ed had awoken to the soft meowing of a kitten his little brother had stashed inside of his chest. And though Al had kept to one spot throughout the night, Edward often heard the turning of pages, the creaking of his shoulder, the exchange of a finished book for a new one from the shelf… Those sounds brought him comfort, serving as a reminder that he was not alone in this world.

But his little brother was in Xing, and he was in Creta, thousands of miles away.

The ticking becomes equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. Edward nearly springs to his feet, ready to remove the plating from the fan and expose the mechanical parts within. He’d never tinkered with such things before, but he was willing to try if it meant getting to sleep. He’d observed his fiancée enough in her natural habitat, tinkering with wires and hunks of metal that she managed to turn into working prosthetic limbs, that he was fairly confident he could figure out the fan’s issue on his own. Had Winry been here, she would have had the issue solved the moment they’d walked through the door. With Edward to serve as her assistant, she would have stood atop the mattress, removed the plating from the center of the fan, and requested a screwdriver from her box of tools she’d brought along to keep his automail in check. The muscles in her arms would flex as she worked, and Edward would lose himself in his lustful haze.

He slams his fist against the mattress and groans in frustration.

For the first time in his life, Edward Elric was alone, and he was terrified.

For eighteen years, he had always had someone by his side. For awhile, it had been his mother, and then, his little brother. His companion had slightly shifted to Winry after the brothers’ return home as the two explored their romantic feelings for one another. He had never been alone, and now, with the brothers having gone their separate ways for their research, and Winry staying behind to focus on her career, the loneliness had creeped up on him, ensuring him in its deadly trap. At least his little brother had friends in Xing—Ling, Lan Fan, Mei… Hr would certainly not have trouble making new ones, either. And Winry had her grandmother and Den in Resembool, and Mr. Garfiel, Paninya, and her customers in Rush Valley.

In Creta, Ed has no one, not even a single familiar name.

He drags his hands down his face and bites his tongue, the urge to scream becoming unbearable.

Perhaps he had made a mistake coming here. Would accompanying Alphonse to Xing have been the better option? After all, the brothers were inseparable until recently. Or, maybe leaving the research to his little brother would have been the best option, for it would allow him to stay with the woman who possessed his heart. He would follow her wherever she may go, prideful of her skills, giving her the encouragement she needed to pass her journeyman’s examination.

It was too late to question his decision, now. He’d spent a portion of his most recent veteran’s benefits on travel expenses. Not to mention, he was lying in a bed in Creta, and a trip home would take the rest of the money he had available to him.

He had promised to assist Al in overturning the law of equivalent exchange, and, dammit, Edward Elric always kept his promises.

Still, the ticking of the fan continues to drive him up the wall.

His head lolls to the right, eyes opening halfway. His golden eyes stare off into space, the wall out of focus. The empty half of the bed feels colossal beside him. He reaches out to his left and bunches the sheets in his grasp. After nearly two years of sharing a bed with Winry, the queen-sized mattress provided by the hotel felt incredibly empty. There’s an emptiness in his chest, a dull ache beneath his breastbone. He fully expects to see Al’s golden hair in the dim light, a soft call of ‘Brother’ as he checks to see if Edward was asleep. When it doesn’t come, he rolls to his left and sprawls out. He isn’t met with the tickling of Winry’s hair against his nose when she sleeps with her back toward him, nor is he met with her lazy, apologetic smile, early in the morning when her alarm goes off for work. He cannot throw his arm around her waist and draw her close, nor can he pull her body atop his, grinning as he kissed her face and her giggling rang in his ears. He frowns and allows his eyes to wander the dimly lit room.

The empty couch beneath the window feels ominous somehow. He’d sat upon several couches with his armored brother during the course of their journey, reading deep into the night until Edward fell asleep against him. They were often where he found Alphonse in the mornings, on the rare occasions Ed had retired to bed. He recalls catching his baby brother with a cat in his arms, having hid it from his older brother within his armor. What he wouldn’t give to discover his brother retrieving a cat he’d stuffed beneath his shirt, whispering to it on the couch…

But he was alone, with nothing but two photographs tucked away in his wallet—one of him, Al, and Winry, and the other of Winry by herself.

He looks to the bedside table, examining what sits atop it. He spies a menu for room service, something that would get little use; a bible sits beside it, an item Ed never understood being supplied in every hotel room he’d been in; and, in the center, a phone.

Wait…

A phone!

He scrambles to his feet, standing on the mattress and jumping to the floor. His metal foot thumps loudly against the floor, and a thought of sympathy for whoever may dwell in the room beneath his quickly flashes in his mind. He stands before the bedside table and grabs the receiver, awaiting the voice of the operator.

“Hello,” he hears after a moment, “operator.”

“Yeah, can I get a call to the country of Amestris?”

“Amestris?” the operator on the other end questions. Long-distance calls weren’t common due to their cost, so he guesses she wasn’t used to such a request. “Yes, I can patch you through to Amestris. Can I get the telephone number?”

“Rush Valley, 6503,” he answers.

There’s the clacking of keys on the other end as the operator dials the number provided. She returns, voice cheery. “Patching you through to Rush Valley, 6503.”

Soon, the voice is replaced by familiar ringing. He digs his old pocket watch out of his back pocket and presses the crown to release the latch. It ticks with each passing second. Ed squints at the clock’s face in the dim light. From what he can see, it reads 1:58 A.M.

“Shit,” he whispers. It’s a two-hour difference between Amestris, whose time is ahead. He closes the pocket watch and returns it to his back pocket. With his luck, she would be asleep, his late night call waking her. She was always grumpy when woken. “Shit, shit, shit. Please don’t be sleeping.”

“Can’t sleep when I have orders to fulfill.”

The voice on the other end fails to greet him, perhaps missing her chance with his talking to himself. The tension in his shoulders fades, and Edward lets out a sigh in relief. Even after losing her number one customer after the Promised Day, Winry Rockbell still worked through the night to ensure her customers were taken care of. It was why she had quickly made a name for herself in Rush Valley, as well as the automail community. Come to her in need of urgent repairs or replacements, and she would see to it that it was done. He loved her for it—she’s passionate with her craft as he is with alchemy, but the all-nighters always worried him. Rather than chastise her, however, he’s glad he’s caught her on a busy day.

“You have no idea how nice it is to hear your voice,” he says.

There’s a pause as Winry drills something into place, the sound loud in his ear. He pulls the phone away from his ear until the noise stops.

“Buttering me up won’t work, Ed.” There’s venom in her words. He’s about to be lectured. “You promised to call me as soon as you arrived in Creta. I know damn well you didn’t just get there.”

He threads his fingers through the hair at his neck and gives the strands a slight tug. “I didn’t, you’re right, and I’m sorry for not calling sooner. As soon as I got to my room, I collapsed on the bed.”

He can hear the noise of her soldering gun. As though he was in the room with her, he can see her with her magnifying goggles on, working with the wiring within her creation. He loved watching her when he was home. Now, he could only listen.

The noise from the soldering gun stops. There’s a faint thud, and he guesses she’s set the tool down. “I was worried, you know. I got a call earlier today and I thought it was you. It was Al.”

The mention of his little brother causes his heart to sink. He hadn’t spoken with him, either, since seeing him off to Xing. Had he worried him, too?”

She continues, not giving him a chance to respond. “He’d wanted to know if you had called, yet. I’m supposed to tell him where you’re staying, and the number to the hotel.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I hadn’t heard from you.” The venom that dripped from her words dries up. Instead, there is a pain in her voice. “He did his best to reassure me that you probably got distracted in a library somewhere, but I could tell he was worried.”

His lips set in a line before bending into a frown. He drags the body of the phone across the bedside table, and lies down on the mattress. The springs squeak beneath his weight. For a moment, he returns to staring at the center of the ceiling fan, taking comfort in the gentle breeze against his face. He’d laid like this several times in Resembool, his arm around Winry’s shoulders, fingers playing with her loose hair as she slept against his bare chest.

His eyes close as the ache beneath his breastbone worsens.

“I miss you.”

Those three little words tumble from his lips far too quickly to reel them back in. While they were true—God, they were so god damn true—he can’t help but worry that he’d uttered them far too soon.

On the other end of the receiver, the sound of the soldering gun resumes. He pictures her working with a furrowed brow, hunched over her workspace, attaching wires to one another. He can almost smell the hot resin in the air.

Winry sighs, and the sound of the soldering gun being set down can be heard. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Winry, I—”

“Don’t you Winry me!” she admonishes. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I didn’t hear from you? When you spoke with me in South City, you promised me that you would call as soon as you got to your hotel.”

He drags his hand down his face. He had promised to call, and yet, he’d broken that promise, all because he was too busy feeling sorry for himself, moping about in his hotel room for hours on end. “I know, but—”

“And don’t even get me started on how worried Al was when I told him I hadn’t heard from you! He stays in one place for less time than you. I can’t just call him and tell him where you are—I have to wait for him to call me!”

That was true. Locating Al would be impossible given the size of Xing. The young man wanted to see its entirety. There was no way he would stay in one place for more than two or three days.

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a pause in the conversation as he struggles to find his words. “Do you have any idea how shitty it is to be alone? Like, truly alone?”

There’s another pause. He waits for Winry to rebut his inquiry with the fact that the brothers had left her alone for years, but he’s quickly reminded of just how smart and empathetic she is. While it was true that they had left her, she had always had constant company, whether it be Pinako or Garfiel and the lot from Rush Valley. Winry had never been truly alone, not like he was, now, without the constant companionship he’d had throughout his life.

“Ed…”

“I keep expecting Al to walk through the door, or to roll over in bed and find you there with me. It didn’t hit me on the train because I was surrounded by people, but the moment I stepped foot into my room, I laid in bed and started feeling sorry for myself. I miss Al, I miss Den and Granny, I miss the idiots back home that looked at me like I didn’t belong, even! Can you believe that?” His palm covers his eyes, an odd smile twisting his mouth. He sighs through his nose and bites his lip. “I miss you, Winry. I miss you like crazy.”

There’s movement on Winry’s end, and he guesses she’s moving the receiver to her other ear. He waits, the ache in his chest subsiding. “…I miss you, too. Of course I do.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

He can practically hear her rolling her eyes. There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “You’re such a weirdo.”

“Takes one to know one.”

He’s weightless, the mattress beneath him like a cloud embracing his body. He moves his hand from his face to his belly, hiking up his shirt. He yawns. “You should sleep, Win.”

“Me? What about you?”

“I wanna talk to you.”

Seated at her workbench, Winry removes her magnifying goggles and twirls the phone cord around her finger. She had gone without phone calls for extended periods of time while the brothers were on their journey; perhaps it had been silly of her to anger so quickly at his failure to do so as he promised. At the end of the day, he was still Edward Elric, certified pain in the ass, but she would be lying if she’d claimed to be surprised at his late night call. It was rare for him to break a promise, and while he hadn’t stuck to his intended schedule, he had managed to call her. That was just the type of man he was, the type of man she’d fallen in love with.

She leans back in her chair and stretches out her legs. “Okay then, what city are you in?”

She receives no response.

“Ed?”

Nothing.

“Hello? Earth to Ed! I asked you a question.”

On the other end, she can hear a soft snore.

He’d fallen asleep.

She giggles. “Goodnight, dummy.”

———

And in the morning, when Edward finally wakes, he’s overjoyed to discover that his fiancée had remained on the other line through the night, ready to greet him as he yawns.

#fma #edward elric #winry rockbell #edwin #otp: equivalent exchange #my fics #help this made me sad

17 notes · View notes

pappydaddy · 4 years

Text

An Odd Summer (r.l.)

A/N: This is the Father!Lupin request with a daughter!werewolf!Reader. Just reading this request made me fall into a puddle of mush for many reasons. First reason: because Lupin would be the best damn father ever - I will fight if someone tries to convince me otherwise. Second reason: the request is just giving me Marauders and Golden Trio parallels and I live for those. Sorry it’s a bit short!

This isn’t set in any particular part of the series, but Sirius is in it because I refuse to acknowledge that he died. The Order is also still formed and Mad-Eye is still alive as well. Also, there are hints of Wolfstar in here because you cannot tell me that they were not meant to be (as much as I love Tonks).

Pairing: Father!Lupin x Daughter!Werewolf!Reader

Show/Movie: Harry Potter

Requested

Warnings: It’s a bit angsty I guess because the reader is a werewolf and they were keeping that from Lupin but it’s mostly just a sweet father/daughter fic.

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

Just remember, you never have to hide something. You can always talk to someone you trust about anything. You can even express things and reach out for help anonymously. Please never suffer alone, my DMs/ask box are always open if you need to talk about anything lovelies💛!

- my gif -

Lupin held his head in his hands as he sat at the long table. All around him, the members of The Order talked about the problem at hand. “Did you know this Lupin?” Mad-eye spoke to the distraught man, making him lift his head from his hands. His tired eyes met the stern Auror’s, seeing the usual scowl painted on his wrinkled face.

“Of course not,” Lupin tried to refrain himself from snapping at Mad-eye. His voice came out strained and weak. “I had no idea.” He whispered to himself, his shoulders slumping as he hung his head. Ashamed of himself for not recognizing the signs earlier. He felt Sirius’ hand land on his upper-back, a soothing gesture that made Lupin feel just a bit better.

“How could you have known? She hid it so well.” Sirius comforted Lupin, his other hand on the table. Lupin lifted his head, his pained and tired eyes connecting with Sirius’ sympathetic ones instantly.

“I should have known,” He pressed, his hand gripping the sleeve of his cardigan. “I went through it too,” He stressed, his grip tightening on his sleeve as he became angrier with himself for being so blind. “I should have seen the signs.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad, Lupin,” Arthur spoke up from his spot next to Molly. “Children hide things from their parents too well sometimes and when you find out, you kick yourself for not realizing sooner. That’s what being a parent is like.” The man tried his best to sympathize with Lupin.

“Merlin knows how many things our children have hidden and continue to hide from us. Enough to give me a heart attack no doubt.” Molly backed up her husband’s statement. Lupin gulped, nodding as he convinced himself that they were right. She had just hidden it way too well, there was no way of him knowing. If he was being completely honest with himself, he still cannot recall a single time he saw the warning signs. She was his daughter, after all, she was bound to be good at hiding things, she was practically raised on stories from his Hogwarts years.

The opening of the door spooked everyone since they never thought it would open while they talked, everyone who was supposed to be there was already in the room. Lupin looked up, seeing a confused Y/N standing at the door, looking at everyone staring at her with wide eyes. “Dad?” She asked, her voice so quiet that if there had been any other noise, he wouldn’t have heard it.

“How are you feeling, Pumpkin?” He asked, watching her step into the room. She moved hesitantly, unsure if she was interrupting a meeting or not. Before she could process his question in her confusion riddled mind, Mad-eye cleared his throat and stood up.

“We’ll leave you guys be, you’ve got lots to talk about.” With that, the others rose from their spots and followed the waddling man out of the room. Sirius remained, his hand still on Lupin’s back comfortingly. Y/N pulled out the chair across the table from her father, placing herself slowly into the chair. She eyed Lupin and Sirius nervously, knowing part of the reason she was here and why her father was so stressed. She cringed, bowing her head slightly as she listened to the last few footsteps exiting the room. She hoped her father wasn’t too mad about her hiding something so big from him.

The door closed, but the three remained silent for a few seconds. Lupin tried to figure out the best thing to say first, Y/N was too scared to say anything in case her father yelled at her, and Sirius was letting Lupin take the reins. Nobody remembered Lupin’s unanswered question from a minute ago, instead, they were too wrapped up in their heads. “How long?” Lupin spoke up, his eyes staring at his daughter.

Y/N looked up, her eyes switching between her father and god-father who both waited for her answer. She sighed, placing her folded hands on top of the table, looking at them. “Since my third year.” She answered, not even needing him to clarify, already knowing the topic of discussion was.

“Your third year,” Lupin’s eyes widened. “That was three years ago, Y/N.” He stressed, wracking his brain to figure out if there were any warning signs he hadn’t picked up on. Y/N looked up, startled as she thought her father was mad. Sirius extended his free hand, placing it over her folded hands to draw her attention from Lupin.

“He’s not mad at you, he’s just worried. He blames himself for not realizing sooner,” He explained, his hand patting hers but not leaving it. Before Lupin could interject, Sirius spoke again. “Why don’t you tell us how this happened?”

She nodded, rolling her lips together nervously. “I snuck into the Forbidden Forest, I know you told me never to go in there, especially on a full moon, but I really wanted to see a unicorn,” She burst into a rant, her hands slipping out from under Sirius’ to fly around the air to convey her wild story. “I hadn’t even thought about the fact that it was a full moon, I just knew that I had overheard Hagrid talking about how he had spotted one the night before,” She panted but showed no signs of slowing her rant. “I was barely in there for more than a few minutes and I heard something running towards me. It wasn’t until a week after that I realized it was a werewolf. I am so, so, sorry! I know I went against everything you ever asked me not to do and I cannot tell you how sorry I am for not only doing that but not telling you-”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Lupin cut her off, making her look at him once again. “As Sirius said, I’m not mad.”

“You’re not,” She tilted her slightly, setting her hands back down on the table. “Not even about me going into the Forbidden Forest after you telling me not to?” She asked, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. Lupin shook his head, his bangs tickling his forehead as he did so.

“I’m not. I’m glad that something worse didn’t happen to you in there,” He told her sincerely, shivering slightly as he thought about all that could have happened to her. “I do, however, question how you managed to hide this. Transformations are horrible and Wolfsbane is quite difficult to brew so how’d you do it?”

“Well, Hermione managed to figure it out before my first full moon so she helped me research how to deal with transformations and taught me how to brew Wolfsbane,” She disclosed, dropping her eyes back to her hands. She didn’t want Hermione to get in trouble because of her. “Luna had all kinds of information that made me feel better, she helps me not think of myself as a monster.”

She didn’t look up from her hands, missing the shared look Lupin and Sirius shared. “Sounds like you’ve gotten everything figured out,” Lupin smiled a tight smile, standing up. Y/N looked up, startled by his chair scraping against the floor. “I just need one thing from you.”

She nodded, standing up abruptly. “Anything.”

Lupin smiled a soft smile now, extending his arms out towards her. “Give your poor old dad a hug, would you?” At that, she rushed around the long table, her arms wrapping around his middle as she hugged him tightly. Lupin laughed as she nearly knocked him over, his hands falling on her back.

“When we were attacked by a werewolf, I didn’t think it’d be my god-daughter,” Sirius stood up himself, wrapping his arms around the pair of them. “Quite an odd start to summer if I do say so myself.”

#remus lupin #lupin x daughter!reader #father!lupin x reader #father!lupin x daughter!reader #lupin imagine #lupin imagines #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter prefernces #requested #pappydaddy's requests #pappydaddy's writing #how is the progress on your request going? see here #has your request been recieved? see here

164 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hello Steph! First, thank you for everything you do for this fandom!! I don’t know what we would do without you!! ♥️ I am looking to start my first novel length Johnlock fic. I found your list, and was wondering if you had a specific one to recommend to start off with? I’m looking for something that won’t make me too sad (the world does that on its own), and of course, lots of Johnlock!! Any recommendations would be appreciated, thank you!! Sending love!! *hugs*

HI NONNY!

Hmm, this is tough, because Novel Length is anything over 50K words, but some people don’t want to read “novels that short”. So I get a lot of requests for Epic novels over 100K, so like WOOO HOO LOL.

Hmm. How about I give you a few recs varying lengths, based on your requirements, and you can decide how long you want to go, since I list all my word counts on my recs?

First off, for when you become obsessed with the lengthy fics like I am now LOL:

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Next, here’s something for each range between 50 and 100K+ <3

BUT BEFORE I BEGIN: honourable mention because it IS my fave fic ever, and it fits your criteria minus the length so SORRY but please check it out:

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

--------

Okay, now the main event, of more-fluff-than-angst:

NOVEL LENGTH NOT-SO-ANGSTY FICS FOR NEWBIES

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w., 14 Ch. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings, Bossy Bottomlock) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family's private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it's time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w., 16 Ch. || Post-TRF, Drumsticks, First Kiss/Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery, Anal, Rimming, Orgasm Denial, Butt Plugs, Cooking, Furniture Sex, Bath Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Prostate Massage, Anal Beads, Dancing, Romance, Tantric Edging, Internalized Homophobia, Case as Foreplay, Anal Beads, Tickling, Dancing, Dry Coming, Romance) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

A Cure For Boredom by emmagrant01 (E, 81,665 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Talk, Threesomes, Light Dom/Sub, Sex Club, Experiments, Anal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming, Cheeking, Double Penetration, Mild Kink, Porn Watching, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – They’d never talked about sex in the year they’d known each other. Well, that wasn’t quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.

Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 84,945 w., 18 Ch. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w., 19 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate's charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

-------

Hope you enjoy those!!! <3 PLEASE read them all, though, and THEN READ ALL THE ONES ON THOSE LISTS. Because once you start long fics, you get REALLY INTO THEM. Hah hah <3

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #long fics #my fic recs #fave fics #johnlock for newcomers #sort of #Anonymous

101 notes · View notes

hoseokslefteyebrow · 4 years

Text

You've Met With A Terrible Fate, Haven't You? || BEN DROWNED

Pairing : Yandere! Ben Drowned X Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst, Yandere

Summary : Appears as a normal dude, but plot twist he's really not.

Wordcount: 4k lol

WARNINGS : This is fic is labeled as Yandere, for those who don't know what it means: "Somebody who is sweet and kind at first glance. But when it comes to their love (crush)they will act obsessive and violent." - Urban dictionary, poorly (but still disgustingly) described dead people, I know Ben originally doesn't kill but in the story he does, idk? Shit written¿

Also disclaimer this is my first time I've tried doing a yandere and it's obviously not my strongest point. Hope you enjoy either way.

You glance at the abandoned game console which your friend had dumped at your place earlier this day.

According to him, something was very, very, wrong with it. The Nintendo 64 was old, of course, but your friend mentioned not being able to pass the boss battle. He mentioned something along the lines of 'it keeps glitching and Link keeps dying'. In other words ' I know you're a hacker and I suck at this game, please hack it for me so I can feel less like a loser'.

You keep writing the email you're supposed to sent to your boss for another thirty minutes, before letting your curiosity lead you.

Before you know it, you've plugged in the old console with more cables than originally planned because of how old it is, and with how modern your tv is. The first odd thing that strikes you is that there's only one account on it, and it's not labeled with your friend's name.

Instead of 'Noah', it's labeled with 'BEN DROWNED' in bold passive aggressive letters.

Simply pushing it to the back of your mind, you start playing.

The second odd thing about the game is that the game has a specific date and it mentions how far BEN, or well, Noah is in the game. Yet when you click it, you have to start all over.

You shrug that off too, simply noting it as the game being old.

Before you know it, several hours pass, and you're finally at the boss battle Noah mentioned. Deciding to see if you can beat it first, you do not plug your laptop in at the Nintendo 64, and opt to play instead.

However just like Noah mentioned, you die as soon as you're close to winning and the game starts glitching.

It takes you barely ten minutes before you're fed up with it, and soon enough you plug your laptop in. You start up some programs and open up a few sites, quickly starting to work. Your fingers glide over the keys of your laptop as you type in the codes in order to hack the game, however after a few minutes, the game starts glitching heavily, and suddenly there's a sentence in bold red letters on the screen of your tv.

' YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT'

It says before the glitching becomes way too much, and some weird kind of red circle appears. Your eyes widen before unplugging the tv and game console, forgetting that your laptop is connected to it.

You miss the small glitches on the laptop screen.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - -

He gritts his teeth as the access to his portal is suddenly denied, the power cut early enough to avoid him.

His red eyes wander in the green coded space, looking for an exit, something that'll make sure he can get his hands on whoever this is. Lucky for him, there's a small white space what'll lead to the outside of it.

Once he's trough, he realizes he's still close to his victim. In fact, he's even closer now.

He smirks as he realizes.

Killing her is fair game now.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - »

You tap your chin as you look as the items on the shelf.

" Should I get the red one or green one?" You mumble to yourself.

" I'd recommend the green one. Green is always better." A voice from behind you startles you.

You whip your head around to look at the stranger who's talking to you.

Behind you is a male you don't recognise from anywhere. And as you start to study him, you realize he's quite handsome. He's got blonde hair, blue eyes and a rosy skin colour. He's wearing black ripped jeans, a dark green shirt, along with a black zip up hoodie, which is left open, he's got a few black ear piercings in his right ear, and has a gold chain around his neck, which disappears beneath his shirt, weighed down by a charm hidden away from your eyes. To top it all of, he's got a matching dark green beanie on top of his messily styled bangs.

" What? Did I say something wrong?" The blonde boy suddenly sweats.

You smile and shake your head.

" No, you didn't. I just tough I was alone here." You smile at him.

ØⱧ ₴₩ɆɆ₮ⱧɆ₳Ɽ₮, ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳VɆ₦'₮ ฿ɆɆ₦ ₳ⱠØ₦Ɇ ₣ØⱤ ₳ VɆⱤɎ ⱠØ₦₲ ₮ł₥Ɇ ₦Ø₩.

" I take that you talk to yourself then?" The male spits at you.

You're not sure if that's meant offensive or not.

" Um, yeah? I tend to do that sometimes yeah." You say, looking down at your hands who're still holding the red silk scarf and green silk scarf.

Đø₦'₮ ฿ɇ ₳₣ɽ₳łđ, ł ₩ø₦'₮ ⱨʉɽ₮ ɏøʉ. Øɽ ₩łⱡⱡ ł?

The unknown male's eyes soften subconsciously, looking at you with an emotion you're not familiar with.

" My name is Ben. What's yours?"

Ben? Haven't you heard that somewhere before?

You smile at him, oblivious to the fact that you're talking to a killer.

" I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you Ben."

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ »

His mind flooded with ideas.

There's so many options on what he can do to her.

Should he mess with her laptop?

Should he just kill her now?

Or should he become closer?

Maybe he should.

He looks at her trough the screen of the laptop, which is almost always open, today not being any different.

He watches her as while she watches something behind the laptop, from the sounds he can hear trough the mic, she's most likely watching tv.

Perhaps he should become closer to her.

Pull her closer only to have her blood staining his hands.

Oh yes, her blood shall soon become his.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦łvɇ₴

She doesn't realize it when her laptop suddenly starts itself up, nor does she know that there's a figure crawling out of it.

He stared at her with deciphering eyes, silently wondering how she isn't dead yet.

If this was anyone else, he'd had them killed already. Their blood would already be staining his face and she would already be screaming in pain and dispair.

Yet here she was, laying peacefully on her bed. Asleep, obviously not dead.

He wonders exactly what he should do next. She doesn't know that he's standing right next to her. It almost makes him laugh.

She doesn't even know that he exists.

She doesn't know that he's here.

He glares at her before moving back into the world of codes and technology.

For now, she lives.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦łvɇ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ

" And then it suddenly started glitching and stuff. Weird isn't it?" You finish off your story as you look at your new friend, Ben.

After meeting in the grocery store, he had suddenly texted you.

Not knowing how he got your number, you got concerned, and asked him. According to him, you had given it to him yourself. At first you didn't believe him, until he told you to check the time of his first message, which somehow was indeed around the same time you were in the grocery store. After that you just shrugged it off as that you forgot it yourself. After all, you knew yourself to be a person with the memory of a goldfish.

Today the two of you met up again, for the fourth time this week.

" Odd indeed. What did you do after that?" Ben asked, acting as if he's interested, even tough he's really not.

" I unplugged it. I think I'm gonna lay off hacking for a while." You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink.

Before he could even think of a response, there was an unknown woman at your table, also holding a cup of coffee.

" Y/N? Long time no see." The new woman greeted you with a smile, sitting down beside you on the booth.

Ben scowled at the newcomer.

Ⱨø₩ đ₳ɽɇ ₴ⱨɇ ₴ł₮ ฿ɇ₴łđɇ ₩ⱨ₳₮'₴ ₥ł₦ɇ ₩ł₮ⱨøʉ₮ ₥ɏ ₱ɇɽ₥ł₴₴łø₦

" Hey, Sara. It's indeed been too long. How are you?" You started chatting with Sara.

Meanwhile Ben's anger only grew.

" My names Ben." Ben suddenly dryly joined your conversation as he slammed his drink down onto the table aggressively, looking straight into Sara's eyes.

" Sorry. Didn't see you there. I'm Sara nice to mee-"

" Yeah, yeah, whatever. Leave. We didn't invite you to come sit with us." Ben spat at her, looking at her with an intense look in his eyes.

Both you and your friend turned to look at him in confusion.

" Is something wrong with me being here? Did I offend you?" Sara asked, genuinely concerned.

Ben was fuming now, on the inside. Who does this girl think she is? First she comes to sit at their table uninvited, then she's capturing the attention of his new favorite plaything, and now she's questioning him? She has to go.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦ŁVɆ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ SᖻSᖶᘿᘻ

He heard her conversation with a male he certainly doesn't know trough her phone, using the microphone without her knowing.

According to what he knows, they're on a date. And according to her contacts, his name is Jaime. He can't find where they met, nor did he know why they met up.

But now that she's checked her reflexion one too many times, and made a pic of her full outfit to send to him, probably to mock him for not having her, ɏɇ₮, he realizes that she's on a date.

After some research by surfing quite literally trough the internet. It turned out this 'Jaime' person was Mexican, and had a soft persona. On his facebook page were pictures where he's working with animals or doing volunteers' work or overall just something where he's helping others. He found the black haired male pathetic, weak even.

In all honesty, even he himself didn't really find him a threat. Not when he looked like that and was overall just kind and bambi looking.

However, all his expectations are thrown out of the window when he hears them say their goodbyes.

" You know, I had a lot of fun tonight. You're really a nice person. In fact, I'd like to go on another date with you again." This voice was definitely that of a male's, probably Jaime.

" I agree. I had a lot of fun too." She said.

₣Ʉ₦? ⱧØ₩ ₵₳₦ Ł₮ ฿Ɇ ₳₦Ɏ ₣Ʉ₦ ₩Ł₮ⱧØɄ₮ ₥Ɇ?

" Good. Do you have a ride or would you like me to drive you home?-" He blocks out the rest of their conversation.

It appears that the good guy needs to go too.

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦ŁVɆ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ SᖻSᖶᘿᘻ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ ᑢᓍᘻᕵᒪᘿᖶᘿ - ᓍᕵᘿᘉ ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ∆

" We should spend more time together." Ben says randomly as the two of you snuggle on the couch.

You giggle, your ears tinting red.

" We're already together all the time tough." You tell him softly.

" I know, but still. By the way, did your stupid date reply yet?" He asked, eyes focused on the tv in front of the two of you.

" No, and don't call him stupid." You pout, softly scolding him.

₲ØØĐ

He grins at you with mysterious eyes.

You shrug it off, knowing it's part of him. The two of you have been hanging out for a while now. Almost three months to be precise. And you two have gotten very close. What used to be keeping distance and keeping the line between acquaintances and friends, had turned into friends or something more. You two almost hung out every day, you were basically attached to each other's hip now.

After a few peacefull moments, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Right as you left, your phone rang.

He turned to look at the disturbing sound his eyes widening at the name which is appearing on the screen.

SARA

He stumbled over the couch to pick it up, an unpleasant feeling of suprise rising whitin him.

" Y/N?! You have to listen to me! Ben is not who you think he is! He's this-"

" I'm this what?" Ben smirked.

Damn you were taking a long time in the bathroom, not that he minded.

The other end of the line was dead silent.

" Don't worry. You don't need to say anything. I'll come home soon. And trust me, once I am, you will never be able to speak a word again." He spoke, an eerie calm in his voice.

" Goodbye, Sara." He said before hanging up.

" Sara called?" Your voice suddenly startled him.

" What? Oh, yeah. But she was in a hurry so she said she'd call you later." He smiled innocently.

You nodded and the two of you resumed watching the movie.

" Isn't there a way, that we could spend more time together?" He suddenly wondered out loud.

You sighed and turned to face him.

" I'm sorry Ben, but I have a job and I like spending time with other people too. So I'm afraid not." You told him softly.

An idea coded itself into his mind.

JɄ₴₮ ₮ⱤɄ₴₮ ₥Ɇ, ɎØɄ'ⱠⱠ ฿Ɇ ₥Ł₦Ɇ ₴ØØ₦

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦ŁVɆ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ SᖻSᖶᘿᘻ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ ᑢᓍᘻᕵᒪᘿᖶᘿ - ᓍᕵᘿᘉ ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ∆ - - - ᕲᓍᘺᘉᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ

You sighed in dispair in the night air as you walked home. Once again, you were rejected in a job interview.

A few days ago you were fired from the job you actually liked. You couldn't understand why either. You didn't do anything wrong, you were quite hardworking and always finished the documents in time.

Your supervisor looked afraid, terrified even when he told you to immediately pack your bags and leave, and ever since you just can't seem to get in anywhere. Not even the gas station wanted you in charge.

" Well hello there. What do we have here." A creepy voice suddenly sounded from behind you.

You turned around only to be greeted by a man with a creepy smile and even creepier, eye lid-less eyes. He was holding a knife, making his intentions obvious.

You didn't need to think twice about his intentions and whipped your phone out of your pocket with the intentions to call the cops and running.

The killer sadly isn't stupid, and has you on the ground under him whitin seconds.

Your phone's screen crack and slides to the other side, the dialed number not pressed on call yet.

" Don't cry sweetheart. It doesn't suit your pretty face. Don't fret, I'll make sure, you'll smile forever. " The killer tells you happily.

Both of you don't realize that your phone screen suddenly lights up in a green colour. Nor does either of you realize the figure crawling out of it.

The both of you don't realize, until the killer is off you and tackled down on the ground beside you.

" I've told you before. She's fucking mine. Go bother someone else." Ben's voice sounds suddenly.

You turn your head to look at him.

This time he does not wear jeans and a sweater. No this time, he looks like he came straight out of a... Video game? He looks like Link, the main personage of the game which your friend Noah had dropped off at your place around six months ago.

Ben never told you he was into cosplaying.

Your ears suddenly tinted pink as you realized, he called you his. Suddenly you felt a little giddy, the guy you like so much might actually like you back.

The killer underneath Ben growls out something you can't hear before throwing the shorter off him and leaving.

" Are you okay?" You ask him.

He turns to you with red eyes.

Red. Fucking. Eyes.

And that's not the only thing about his eyes that changed.

Instead of the usual white eyes have, his are now black.

And even there it doesn't end.

There's blood running down his eyes onto his cheeks, as if he's crying blood.

You take a step back.

What the fuck is this?

" Don't be afraid! I know I look a little... Weird, but it's all just part of my..... Cosplay." He explains.

You ponder over it.

He's never gave you a reason to not trust you right? Or did he?

You ignore the instinct to run away from him, instead choosing to calm down and follow your heart, which is telling you to trust him.

" Come with me. You can stay at my place tonight." Ben tells you, holding his hand out to you.

You take it.

₲ØØĐ ⱠŁ₮₮ⱠɆ ₱Ʉ₱₱Ɏ

- - - ᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ᓍᘉᘿ - - - » ᖽᐸᘉᓰᐺᘿS ᓍᖇ ᕼᘿᗩᖇᖶS ? ¿ » - - - ₭₦ŁVɆ₴ - - - ᖴᗩᓰᒪ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ SᖻSᖶᘿᘻ - - - ᖇᘿᗷᓍᓍᖶ ᑢᓍᘻᕵᒪᘿᖶᘿ - ᓍᕵᘿᘉ ᖴᓰᒪᘿ ∆ - - - ᕲᓍᘺᘉᒪᓍᗩᕲᓰᘉᘜ - - - ᕲᓍᘺᘉᒪᓍᗩᕲ ᑢᓍᘻᕵᒪᘿᖶᘿ ›

It took longer than expected to reach his house. The whole road to his house is creepy. Ben appartly lives in this supermodern house in the woods.

Which is off already, the woods are known troughout the whole town as mystery. According to urban legends, there's creatures loving in there who shouldn't exist. Because of that, there's barely any people there. According to Ben, everything is all clear and safe, and you trust him with your heart.

You don't question him after his answer and instead follow him into the,indeed very,modern little house which is situated hidden behind the trees.

You get directly hit in the face with a copper scent as soon as you step foot into his house.

" Would you like something to drink?" He asks you as you enter his house, neither of you bothering to take your shoes off.

" Just water please." You tell him as you study the place.

The inside of the small house is more modern than the outside, with a big living space and an open kitchen. There's also three doors in the hallway.

One to the bathroom, one leading upstairs and one leading into the basement.

" Here you go." Ben returns, handing you a glass of water.

" Thanks, aren't you going to take off your make up and lenses?" You ask him.

His smile fades a bit, and for a moment you think you've accidentally offended him, but he nods with a pout before you can think about it twice.

" Yeah, that's probably a good idea. The livingroom is at the end of this hallway, feel free to make yourself comfortable." He smiles before going upstairs.

You stand still for a moment in the hallway as an eerie feeling suddenly starts crawling up your spine.

You ignore it, and instead start walking towards the livingroom.

Until the sound of something falling reaches your ears.

A sound that is directed from the basement.

Your first idea is to call for Ben, to alert him that you two probably aren't alone.

You don't do that however, because it could just be something falling off a shelf, right?

And so you decide to investigate it yourself.

As soon as you open the door to the basement, you're directly hit in the face with a very prominent copper scent. The same on you already smelled when you entered his house, except it's way too strong and there's something eerily familiar about it which you just can't pinpoint.

You silently push the door open, and turn on the lightswitch to the basement. Behind the door is a stony staircase, the rest of the basement is hidden away behind a wall. Curiosity takes over you, and you make your way downstairs before you can think about it twice.

As soon as you near the bottom, you spot blotches of red. The deep red substance is spread like a trail from he bottom stairs onto the rest of the room.

And then it clicks in your mind. It's blood. That's also the smell in the air. Was the intruder injured?

You step down the stairs while following the blood trail with you eyes.

You stumble back in fear and unpleasant suprise at the sight that greets you.

There's dead people down here. Most of which you don't recognise, but a few you do.

You gasp as you look into a pair of wide blue eyes.

Sara.

She's sitting there, eyes wide open, with cuts all over. There's big ones in her rib case and near her organs, you can even see Intestines spread over the floor.

She's obviously dead.

But how come she's here?

Ben didn't do this? Did he?

Next to her is Jaime, who's eyes are closed but his chest is rising and falling.

He's alive.

You run over to him and shake him awake, not minding the blood that's now on your hands.

" Jaime! Please! Wake up!" You say desperately, tears now escaping your eyes.

" Y/N? Y/N! You have to get out of here. Ben, he's not who you think he is!" He tells you desperately.

" I'm not leaving you! Can you walk?" You ask him trough your tears.

" I'm chipped Y/N, you have to go. Get help. Ben's insane. He's a de-"

" Demon? Mass murderer? Failure? Dead? Is one of those what you wanted to tell her? How dare you lie to her! I'm none of those!" A voice suddenly booms trough the air.

You turn around while starting to shake. Jaime tries to hold you close to him with the little strength he has left. There Ben stands, still with red pupils and black eyes, dried red streaks still on his cheeks.

" Don't fucking touch her." Ben screams angrily, ripping you all but gently away from the male, causing you to tremble against him.

" Don't be afraid my love, he won't touch you again." Ben sushes you.

Is he really thinking that you're afraid of him?

" N-no. Let me go. Do-don't touch me." You tell him, pushing away from him.

He looks confused by your behavior.

" What's wrong baby? Please don't believe whatever lies he told you.-"

" What lies?! That you've killed my friend?! That you've killed these innocent people?! That you've chipped him?!" You yelled.

" They all deserved it Y/N! They're all in the way of our love!" Ben yells back desperately, stepping towards you.

" I don't even know these people!" You say, stepping back into the wall, knocking into a shelf.

You turn around to see what you knocked into.

Wait, is that the Nintendo 64?

" They all stared at you with sick twisted ideas! They really do deserve it." He tells you.

Suddenly it clicks in your mind.

" You're Ben from the game." You state.

He nods.

" Yes bu-"

" How?.."

" You clicked my game onto your computer remember."

" It was you wasn't it? You're the reason I've lost my job. You're the reason my friends all turned their back to me." You wishper, eyes now gathering in your eyes.

You've been so incredibly fucking stupid.

He's the reason your life has turned down the drain.

" Yes. But it's good right. Now we can finally be together." He says like a crazy man in love.

Which he is.

You start sobbing as you fall onto your knees realizing, all these people here. They've all died because of you.

" Hey, don't worry my live. We can now finally be together."

ɎØɄ'VɆ ₥Ɇ₮ ₩Ł₮Ⱨ ₳ ₮ɆⱤⱤŁ฿ⱠɆ ₣₳₮Ɇ, Ⱨ₳VɆ₦'₮ ɎØɄ?

ᘜ ᗩ ᘻ ᘿ ᓍ ᐺ ᘿ ᖇ.

#creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere #angst #creepypasta one shot #jeff the killer #jkjk #first time lol #idkeitherman

189 notes · View notes

c-swirlz · 3 years

Text

Pure Imagination

Summary: Thomas has never really questioned the existence of humanoid fragments of his personality, but when strange dreams start worming their way into his sleeping hours, he decides it’s time to get some answers. Meanwhile, Logic, Creativity and Morality are dealing with a few of their own problems.

Relationship(s): None

Warning(s): Panic attack, swearing

[AO3 link]

This was written for the TSS Fanworks Collective’s April Reverse Mini Bang challenge. The rules of the challenge were simple: claim a piece of submitted art and write fic inspired by it. The art I chose was drawn by @amayakumiko, and it can be found here.

Everyone has an imagination. From the elderly to the newborns, everyone is capable of warping reality within their own head. Some imaginations are tame. Others are wild. Some people imagine life in another country and the adventures they could have. Others imagine life in a fantasy world where society’s rules don’t apply. Everyone’s imagination is different. That’s what makes it such a special thing.

There are a handful of people who are more imaginative than the rest of humanity. They’re a rare breed, and it is said only three are born across a ten-year period. Of course, such powerful imaginations can’t go to waste, so it has been decided that a gift shall be bestowed upon every individual who possesses it. The first to receive this gift shall be a boy named Thomas Sanders.

*****

In an ordinary house on an ordinary street, a shadow looms over the small crib five month old Thomas is sleeping in. A leather pouch is opened, revealing many different colours of shimmering glitter. The dark blue and indigo glitter is retrieved, and with unnatural precision, it is sprinkled onto Thomas.

The glitter glows brightly. Thomas is surrounded by an aura that glows both dark blue and indigo. The glitter dissolves, and the aura fades along with it.

Red glitter is retrieved from the pouch. It’s sprinkled onto Thomas, causing him to stir but not wake. The aura that momentarily surrounds him glows a bright imperial red.

More glitter is retrieved. This time, it’s light blue and cyan. Once again, Thomas’ aura adopts the colours as he’s showered by the magical substance. The aura glows dark blue, indigo, imperial red, light blue and cyan all at once before it fades again.

Thomas stirs again. His bottom lip trembles and he whimpers. Unlike before, he doesn’t relax. Several other colours of glitter are sprinkled onto him, and his face twitches as it falls onto the delicate skin of his cheeks and forehead. His restlessness grows as his aura appears once again. It glows a variety of different colours.

Thomas’ lips part and a quiet, distressed noise escapes. His tiny eyes blink open, and they well up with unshed tears.

His aura fades. He sobs loudly. His parents wake up and scurry out of their shared bed frantically to check on him, and on the ground near his crib, they find an empty leather pouch.

They’ve never seen it before.

*****

Logic /ˈlɒdʒɪk/ NOUN Reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity.

Logan has no idea how he — or his fellow Sides, for that matter — came to be. He knows they haven’t always had physical forms. He knows they haven’t always been able to speak to Thomas face-to-face. He knows there’s no logical explanation, yet he’s always searching for one.

Fragments of an individual’s personality shouldn’t have an independent conscience. They shouldn’t have physical forms. They shouldn’t be able to do things no other human can.

Logan knows everything Thomas does. Or, more accurately, he knows everything Thomas has learned over the years, and he retains that knowledge even after Thomas has forgotten it. Science is something Thomas seems to remember the most about, but math… oh, math. The amount of mathematical formulas Thomas has forgotten frustrates Logan to no end.

Thomas and Logan share a mind. They share their knowledge, and that knowledge helps them grow. Thomas asks questions, and most of the time, Logan is the one who answers them. He’s an intellectual, but he doesn’t know everything.

He wishes he did.

*****

“Logic?”

Thomas’ tentative call tugs gently in Logan’s chest. When Logan rises up, he finds his Whole sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, his head in his hands.

“What can I do for you, Thomas?”

Thomas lowers his hands and sighs. He gestures to the sheet of paper on the desk and picks up the pencil sitting beside it. “Homework.”

Logan’s head tilts. “You… require assistance?”

Thomas nods.

“Have you not asked your teachers for help?”

Thomas averts his gaze, bites his lip and shakes his head. “I would, but I don’t want it to seem like I wasn’t paying attention to the lectures. Plus, I... feel like I ask them for help a little too often.”

Logan’s expression softens. He approaches Thomas, careful not to get too close. They still don’t know what will happen if they make physical contact with their Whole, and Logan doesn’t plan on being the one to find out.

“What are you having trouble with?”

Thomas moves to point out what question he’s stuck on, but stops. There’s silence for a beat, then a quiet clatter breaks it when Thomas puts the pencil down.

“Y’know what, nevermind. I have plenty of time to finish this, it’s fine.”

Logan’s brow furrows. Thomas stands and moves to his bed. Logan follows, but chooses to stand nearby as Thomas drapes himself across the blanket, effectively wrinkling it.

“Is something the matter, Thomas?”

Thomas sits up and his gaze snaps up to meet Logan’s eyes. “No,” he says, far too quickly.

“Are you sure?” Logan asks. He takes a seat beside Thomas, and he pushes down the odd urge to place a hand on his Whole’s shoulder. “You seem distressed. If something is bothering you, talking about it may help.”

Thomas sighs and lowers his head. His bangs flop down, partially hiding his face.

“I’ve been having… dreams. Weird ones.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “It’s not uncommon for someone to have strange dreams every now and again—“

“That’s the thing,” Thomas interrupts. He lifts his head and turns it to lock eyes with Logan. “Logic, I’ve been having these dreams for days now, and they won’t stop.”

Logan blinks. “Ah. That is… rather concerning. Can you remember any of your dreams?”

Thomas’ brow furrows in thought. “Well, I remember I almost drowned in glitter Monday night.” He laughs. “That was weird.”

Logan summons a notepad and jots something down. Thomas waits patiently for him to stop scribbling before he speaks again.

“Wednesday night was pretty freaky. I was in some really dark room, and I could hear whispering. I remember seeing weird flashes of colour, but I wasn’t able to get a proper look before they disappeared.”

Logan nods and jots another note down. “You didn’t experience any odd dreams on Tuesday?”

Thomas shakes his head, then pauses. “Wait, shouldn’t you know all this? You’re part of me.”

Logan tucks the pen in his grasp behind his ear. “Dreams are generally Creativity’s department. Unlike him, the rest of us are not automatically made aware of them.”

“Huh.”

The room falls into an awkward silence, save for the tapping of Thomas’ forefinger on the desk. Logan fixes his tie and cleans the lenses of his glasses, just to give him something to do.

“Why am I having these dreams, Logic?”

Logan blinks. “What?”

Thomas looks down at his bare feet, which are hovering just above the carpet. “I wanna know why I’m having these dreams. There has to be a reason, and I guess I just assumed you’d know.”

There’s a lump in Logan’s throat. He swallows, but it doesn’t dislodge.

“I…”

Thomas glances up at Logan. Logan puts on a brave face and looks his Whole in the eye.

“As I said before, dreams are not my department. It would be best to consult Creativity if your concern grows.”

The way Thomas’ expectant face falls makes Logan’s heart sink. He wishes he had an answer, he really does, but nothing is coming to mind. He doesn’t know what’s going on, nor why Thomas is having such strange dreams.

Knowledge is his entire existence. He has to know.

He sinks out. For the rest of the evening, he stays in his room, conducting research and jotting down notes.

He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep.

He has to know.

*****

Creativity /ˌkriːeɪˈtɪvɪti/ NOUN The use of imagination or original ideas to create something; inventiveness.

Roman is a dreamer. He’s a performer; an artist. He’s the one who’s always ready to slay any monsters lurking in the shadows. He’s the hero of the story, and any villains who dare to cross his path will be shown no mercy.

Thomas is an actor. Saying he’s a good one would be an understatement. Both he and Roman are well rehearsed in putting on a mask and performing for an audience, and they’ve gotten rather good at it over the years.

Thomas loves theatre. So does Roman.

Thomas loves Disney. So does Roman.

Thomas has dreams. So does Roman. Not the sort of dreams you have when you’re asleep, but rather aspirations, ambitions and ideals.

Roman shouldn’t have them. Dreams, he means. He’s a facet of a person’s personality. He isn’t an individual. Thomas’ dreams are the ones that matter; his are irrelevant.

It’s one of the many problems Roman has with his existence.

He doesn’t like talking about it.

*****

“Prince?”

Roman greets Thomas with an exaggerated regal bow as he rises up. “Good afternoon, Thomas! What can I do for you on this fine day?”

Thomas puts his phone aside and starts fiddling with his fingers. After a moment, he places his hands on either side of him, and his fingers curl around the soft material of the blanket underneath him.

“I talked to Logic yesterday.” Thomas pauses, but only for a beat. “I told him about the weird dreams I’ve been having.”

Roman sighs. “Yes, I heard about that. Your dreams these past few nights have been quite strange, and oddly enough, they all seem to be connected. Logic’s been trying to figure out what they mean, but I don’t think he’s had much luck so far.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Roman shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Picking out the symbolism of the dreams I oversee isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

Thomas looks away. “Oh.”

Roman smiles warmly. “Don’t fret, Thomas. We’ll figure this out together, okay? These questions won’t go unanswered.”

Thomas glances at Roman, and the corner of his lips curl upward.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Roman grins and starts to sink out.

“Hey, wait.”

Half-submerged in the floor, Roman stops. He rises back up and raises an eyebrow.

Thomas stands and starts fiddling with his fingers again. “I, uh… sorry about Thursday. I know you wanted me to go for the lead in the play.”

Roman waves a dismissive hand, ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest. “Don’t sweat it, Tommy Salami. It’s just a school play, no big deal. They’re practically the same as the ones you participated in back in high school, anyway.”

Thomas giggles. “Tommy Salami? That’s a new one.”

“I have plenty more; I’ve been brainstorming all week.”

Roman and Thomas laugh, and just for a moment, Roman’s tight chest loosens. As their laughter dies down, Roman feels the tightness return.

He ignores it.

*****

Morality [məˈralɪti] NOUN Principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behaviour.

Patton’s job is simple. He determines what’s right and wrong. He makes sure Thomas is honest and encourages him to put others before himself. When Thomas was younger, Patton would repeat the same mantra over and over again.

“Don’t kill, don’t steal. Be honest. Help others and put them first. Be a good person, kiddo.”

When Thomas was younger, his sense of morality was fairly streamlined. Now, slowly but surely, things are becoming more complicated.

Patton hates that. He shouldn’t, but he does.

The moral dilemmas Thomas faces on a daily basis are growing more complex. Though Patton will never admit it, he’s struggling to keep up. It’s getting more and more difficult to determine what the ‘right thing’ to do is, and the pressure is always on Patton to make the call. He’s supposed to know, but sometimes…

Sometimes he doesn’t.

*****

“I’ve figured it out!”

Logan rises up in Patton’s room, grinning from ear to ear. His glasses are slightly askew and he has a large pile of notebooks and stray pieces of paper stacked precariously in his arms. Patton scrambles over to help Logan by taking some of his load, but then has to quickly dump them onto his bed as his arms begin to shake under the weight he was unprepared to carry.

Patton turns around to face Logan and laughs. “Wow, Logan, I haven’t seen you this happy in… well, ever! But, uh… what did you figure out, exactly?”

Logan rolls his eyes and places his load on the ground at his feet. He fixes his glasses, straightens his tie and runs a hand through his hair a few times before clearing his throat. Patton’s heart sinks at the way Logan’s expression quickly settles back into one of cold indifference.

“I think I’ve finally managed to figure out why we exist in this particular form,” Logan gestures to himself, “and why Thomas is able to summon us to his side at will.”

“This is about all those weird dreams Thomas keeps having, right? Roman mentioned it the other day.”

Logan nods. “It is.” He pauses. “Well, partially. I believe the dreams are a result of an event that occurred during an earlier stage of Thomas’ life. I'm thinking it’s either a result of some kind of genetic mutation, or a genetic alteration.”

Patton blinks.

“...What about the glitter?”

Logan stills.

“What.”

Patton’s brow furrows. “Wasn’t there glitter in one of Thomas’ dreams? I could’ve sworn Roman mentioned it…”

Logan blinks. Slowly, a realisation dawns on him.

“Oh, of course, the glitter.” Logan gently hits the side of his head with his palm. “I completely forgot that was a factor.” He sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Now I’ll have to revise everything,” he mutters.

Patton frowns. “Maybe you should take a break, Logan. You’ve been working on this,” he gestures to the stacks of notebooks, “for a really long time.”

“I’ve taken plenty of breaks, Patton.”

Patton crosses his arms. “I mean a proper one.”

Logan huffs. “Patton, I’m not a child. You do not have to… monitor me.”

Patton’s eyes go wide. “Monitor—“ He stops, squeezes his eyes shut and massages his temples. He releases a slow, steady breath before he opens his eyes and lowers his arms. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Logan scoffs and looks away.

“Logan, what’s gotten into you?”

Logan chooses to ignore the question as he retrieves his notebooks.

“I really should’ve expected this.”

“Wha — What—“ Patton splutters. “Expected what?”

“You are the heart. I am the mind. It’s common for us to be at odds, especially when you’d always rather Thomas spend time with friends rather than study.”

When Logan looks at Patton, there’s fire in his eyes. He’s glaring daggers, and Patton has to force himself not to flinch away.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Patton’s voice is loud, and he’s very close to yelling. He hopes he won’t have to resort to such an extreme.

Logan shakes his head. “Nothing.”

He sinks out, and Patton is left alone in Nostalgia Nirvana as guilt settles in his chest like a pebble.

*****

Anxiety /aŋˈzʌɪəti/ NOUN A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.

A nervous disorder marked by excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behaviour or panic attacks.

Thomas is floating. Around him is a pitch-black void. Above him, a hand comes into view, sparkling glitter pinched between its fingers.

The glitter falls. It’s a variety of different colours, and it almost looks like a rainbow.

Thomas reaches for the glitter, wanting to feel it between his fingertips. The moment the glitter makes contact with his hand, it turns a deep purple — or is it violet? Thomas barely has any time to process the change before he finds himself falling. As he falls, he swears he can hear a voice, but it’s extremely muffled, as if he’s hearing it from underwater. Slowly, however, the voice grows louder, and Thomas can almost hear what it’s saying—

“Thomas!”

Thomas’ anxiety spikes. His eyes fly open and he sits up, barely aware enough to recognise where he is. He’s faintly aware of his chest heaving and the uneven breaths he’s taking, but that’s about it.

Someone nearby mutters a swear, and the next thing Thomas knows, he’s being guided off the bed — his bed, he was in his bed — and onto the carpeted floor. He really should be more concerned about the stranger in his bedroom, but oddly enough, he feels like he can trust them.

“Breathe, Thomas. Four-seven-eight, remember?”

Yes, Thomas remembers. Unfortunately, his chest feels like it’s crushing itself with every breath he takes.

The stranger gathers Thomas’ hands into their own and places them against their chest. Thomas can feel their heart pounding.

“You feel that?”

Thomas nods.

“Cool. Now, I want you to focus on that and copy my breathing, okay?”

Thomas nods again. Despite his aching chest, he allows the stranger to guide him through the exercise. As he breathes, he can hear the stranger murmuring words of encouragement.

“Keep it up, Thomas. That’s good, keep going.”

Eventually, after what seems like hours but is really only a few minutes, Thomas is able to breathe normally, and his chest no longer aches with every breath. The haze of panic is fading, and Thomas is finally able to get a good look at the stranger who helped him. They’re wearing an unzipped black plaid jacket with the hood up, and Thomas can see they’re wearing a black shirt underneath. The hood plus their bangs makes it very difficult to see their face, though Thomas is pretty sure he can see eyeshadow smudged underneath their eyes.

The only word that comes to mind to describe them is ‘edgy’.

The stranger mutters something under their breath before reaching up and pulling the hood off their head. They run a hand through their hair, and Thomas can’t help but notice it looks almost identical to his own.

Just like that, everything clicks.

“You’re a Side.”

The Side smiles wryly in Thomas’ direction. “Sure am.”

“I have more than three?!”

“Clearly.” The Side’s voice is monotone, and Thomas can’t help but think he’s being mocked. “Oh, and I’m Anxiety, by the way, thanks for asking.”

Thomas very quickly decides he does not like this new Side.

Anxiety sits back on his heels. “That was one heck of a dream you were having, huh? Though I guess that’s nothing compared to all the others you’ve been having.”

“You know about those?”

“Well, duh.” Anxiety stands and stretches. Thomas does the same. “I kinda have to be able to monitor your dreams so I can wake you up if shit gets real.”

“Do you know anything about them?”

Anxiety raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, kid.”

Thomas’ internal groan is very loud, and he’s glad only he can hear it. “Well, we’ve been trying to figure out what they mean for weeks now, but—“

“Magic.”

Thomas blinks. “What?”

Anxiety perches himself on the end of Thomas’ bed. “These dreams are a result of you being exposed to magic as a baby.”

Thomas’ brow furrows. “Are you messing with me?”

“Nope,” Anxiety responds, popping the ‘p’. “I know it sounds absurd, like something Princey would come up with, but I’m serious. How else do you think we exist?”

“You expect me to believe the reason I have Sides is because of magic?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, no. Hate to break it to you, bud, but magic doesn’t exist.”

Anxiety pulls his jacket tighter around himself. “That’s Logic talking. If magic didn’t exist, then nor would we.”

“You’re making absolutely no sense.”

“I’d like to think I’m making perfect sense.”

Thomas’ teeth grind. “I’d like you to know that you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

Anxiety smirks. Thomas glares. For a moment, the two of them are locked in a staring contest.

Thomas loses.

Anxiety cackles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna take my leave before my presence attracts… unwanted attention. Well, unwanted for me, not so much for you.”

Anxiety stands up and prepares to sink out, but pauses. He snaps his fingers as if he’s just remembered something, then turns to face Thomas.

“Hey, by the way, you might wanna check in with those three. I hear they’re not doing so hot.”

Anxiety sinks out, but not before shooting Thomas a lazy two-fingered salute. Once he’s gone, Thomas’ face falls and he flops back onto his bed, not bothering to fix the blankets. He grabs his pillow and shoves his face into it, allowing it to muffle the extremely loud groan he can finally release.

“Why is my personality so complicated?”

#april reverse mini bang #tss fanworks collective #sanders sides #sanders sides oneshot #character!thomas #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #panic attack #swearing #swirlz scrawls

20 notes · View notes

borkthemork · 3 years

Text

Got tagged by @calamity-unlocked for the procrastinating writer ask, and might as well! Always fun to get away from the pains of editing, RIP to Falling Down Dry’s eighth chapter.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

26.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

220,000.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

A lot. Just...a lot before I got into Ao3 so let’s keep it at that. But mainly I wrote for SU, Amphibia, and FMA.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

-Death of the Ego

I would say this happened because I wrote this at the right place at the right time. People had been theorizing that Steven would get corrupted ever since the trailer to SUF, and I originally made this as a one-shot...until people encouraged me to start exploring it.

Wouldn’t say it was my best work, but every time I wrote something it meant I improved slowly, and I would always appreciate that no matter the weather.

-Doesn’t Have to be Solo

Oh man, I loved this one! Just a series of connected events with Steven going on his road trip, and learning more about himself and who he was along the way. It also was the fic where I needed a lot of beta readers as time went on, so it made me learn a lot about grammar, prose, and overall the internal rules I developed while writing in general.

-Beyond the Music Box

This was the surprising one! This fic was originally a place where I could archive all the drabbles I written on Tumblr, and y’all really wanted it due to how chaotic my tag format is for this stuff.

It’s surprising for me because I didn’t expect a lot of love when it came to my casual writings since they take I don’t know an hour or so in creating, so thank you everyone who encouraged me to do this.

Just ignore the fact I’ve been lazy at updating the drabbles, shhhh.

-Building One Up

Marcanne, my beloved. Me and my friend kept talking about how Anne was a buff dork and this was at a time where no one really focused on that except mainly on Sasha when it came to strength (for obvious reasons).

I found this slander (I’m joking, by the way) and decided that I needed to write my feelings out on the topic.

And y’all agreed with me so dthdfthtfhtfht.

This also was the first time I had to hone in on a new form of characterization entirely, being that I infused the character’s thoughts and feelings into the way the prose flowed out itself. For Marcy, I went on a pretty analytical front with this piece, and it helped me get into the groove for people like Anne and Sasha and many others over the course of writing.

-Late Night Talks

I didn’t expect this one to blow up at all. I wrote this at one a.m. and y’all just grabbed this fic and ran, I am still confused.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I respond to comments all the time because comments just give a lot of serotonin, you know? Someone took their time out of their day to remark on things I did in the work itself, and it’s just very validating to see. It also creates this environment that says, “Yes, I see you, and you can interact with me anytime you want.” so it’s all about that friendliness unless you’re rude to me back.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Pizza for One. Had an angst kick when SUF occurred so I milked it whenever my motivation got the best of me.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write crossovers unless you mean a crossover of characters to a new environment and set of rules. I would gladly write characters into the FMA world, oh my Lord!

But I guess the craziest stuff I’d written would just be comedy sketches? Best example would be Joe and Bessie having kids and Marcy having a conniption over it, so take that what you will.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t believe so? I did get one person on my old SU fic asking me to continue while giving me unsolicited advice but they apologized not soon after.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do write smut. I write it privately but I adore characterization and intimacy, and so I try to make rather domestic pieces that connect to the characters themselves. If it has a certain kink, I make sure to research it so I could understand why the character finds the act rather arousing, and I just want to pay respects to the act itself.

Even with our current day and age, there’s still a lot of conservative anti-sex rhetoric going around, and I always try to view the act of physical intimacy in the same lens as one who adores love in all its different facets and forms.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope to that either!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sadly, no. I do art trades with people and those are lovely to do since we get to brainstorm and make art together, but I’ve never co-written work with someone. If anyone wants to do that, then sure, just hit me up.

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

It changes every season, every morning tide, every peace loving hour on the Planet Earth.

It’s Marcanne, right now.

When it comes to ships I always go with the Friends-to-Lovers dynamic, but a lot of the ships I have come from seeing the amount of intrigue in how that type of ship would play out. That could be with Kannao and the amount of commentary over Japanese gender biases, or Royai with their very complicated but extensive adoration and loyalty to one another.

For Marcanne, it’s all about that playful banter that could definitely bubble out of the surface if you just (bangs table) allow them to communicate and be transparent fully. (cries)

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Sadly, that Anne fic with her confiding in Hop Pop after they get settled in her house. After what happened with the sneak peek, I realized that this fic would need a lot of build-up to be satisfying and I didn’t have the strength to do a 10k build-up to Anne crying.

Maybe I’ll finish it, we’ll see.

15) What are your writing strengths?

Writing strengths would be concise prose and characterization. I am a worry wart, I worry over the importance of each paragraph and how it all forms and transitions together, it’s just a part of how I work a great deal of the time. And man, characterization is the big one for me, if I don’t understand how the people work and could theoretically function in the story itself, I feel absolutely lost.

Which is also the reason why I’m struggling right now with FDD Chapter Eight, because Marcy’s reaction to Yunan keeps eluding my grasp!

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I overthink a lot. Concise prose is great but I force myself to get all fancy and massive with details since I’ve got to unless I want a specific part to be so quick and unmeaningful, and this leads to pacing issues or just not enough intended time for people to breathe in the fic itself.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I need to get a beta to make sure I don’t sound like an asshole, haha. I do love other languages, they are beautiful and can add a lot towards an audience who does know the language itself, but it depends on the work I’m doing.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That would be uhhhhh, my memory is lacking but Minecraft. The whole videogame had a wish fulfillment atmosphere to it, and since I got rather obsessed by how anything could happen in the engine itself I went with it.

19) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

When it comes to me, my own perception of my art changes day to day. Back when I first posted the Lapidot fic I thought it was the best thing I’ve ever done even though now, with the knowledge I have from workshops and betas, that the style I drafted had a lot of grammar and prose mistakes that I wouldn’t make in the future. It is pretty subjective, but for now I think the best fic I could look at right now would be amestrian catcher (set something ablaze).

Thank you Calamity once again for this! And I’ll be tagging @resplendent-chungus, @aanau, and @golddragon387!

#tag game #personal

10 notes · View notes

peaches-writes · 3 years

Text

party night

prompt 2: “But it looks like it’s enjoying itself!”

member: minho / lee know wc: 1.9k genre: fluff, bakeneko au, neighbor au, the crackiest fic you’ll ever read in a while warning: explicit language note: finally it’s done it took a while and it’s not even good it’s so trippy sldjflskdf but i’ve been slumped with work rawr + idk i didnt do my research im so sorry this was quick bc i still hav hw lskdfjsldjk

“Swswswswsws...” You hiss continuously as you point your flashlight into the darkness of the forestry ahead, turning your head to your neighbor after. “Ji, what’s your pet’s name again? It might respond if we called it by its name, you know. It’s been five minutes since we’ve been looking for it.”

“P-Pet? I don’t—”Jisung briefly stops walking and squints his eyes at you, accidentally pointing his own phone’s flashlight to your face when you turn around to face him at immediately noticing his pause. You hold your free hand up to your face in instinctive response to his accidental action, wincing in pain of the bright light to which Jisung guiltily heaves a sigh at. That was close! “A-Ah, I mean!—L-Lee Know! His...yeah, the cat’s name is Lee Know!”

You furrow your eyebrows and bring your hand down once Jisung apologizes and points his flashlight elsewhere, a confused frown settling on your lips. “Lee Know? You named him?”

“Y-Yeah?” He raises his own eyebrows curiously, jogging up the remaining distance to you when you beckon for him to continue walking deeper into the forest with you. It’s time like these when the eco-friendly agenda our village has going on is such a hassle, Jisung groans internally to himself, Minho could be anywhere in this forest...that idiot. “Why’d you ask?”

You shrug, flinching when a distant rustling faintly goes through your ears. When you point your flashlight towards its direction, however, you only see, much to your disappointment, a raccoon scurrying away. “It’s just—and don’t get offended!—Lee Know sounds a bit of a choice for a cat’s name.” You explain sheepishly, looking away in case he does get offended. “I actually thought Minho named him...given his generally weird tendencies. Maybe he got tired of naming pets cutely like Soonie, Doongie, and Dori or something so I thought, you know...”

Jisung snickers under his breath as you explain, frantically shaking his head and waving his hands when you surprisingly hear and ask him about it. Tell that to him when you see him, he so badly wants to tell you but he opts to quietly continue looking for his roommate instead, mirroring you and pointing his flashlight towards every inch of the path.

“It’s that ridiculous, huh?” He jokes, to which your eyes widen at. When he peers over your shoulder and notices this, he immediately lets out a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s cool. I think it’s ridiculous for a cat too.”

Your shoulders unintentionally relax at this and you muster up a laugh as well. “It sounds like a stage name.”

“It’s swag, apparently.”

After five more minutes of walking (and not much progress in finding clues as to where the cat went but misleading footprints of foxes and more raccoons), you stop right under the warning sign your village’s Homeowners Association, placed right before the forest’s restricted area. “Nothing.” You turn around on your surroundings twice before concluding against the stillness of the night and the distant cricketing, facing Jisung again with a disappointed expression. “We can’t go beyond the subdivision limits, Ji. I’m so sorry.”

Jisung glances between you and the angry ‘No Trespassing’ sign in thought, biting his lip down as he ponders on what to do next. It’s either he risks having you see more than one supernatural creature tonight and drag you with him past village limits or he pretends to go back to the village with you then run all the way back to the other side of the forest and continue looking for his escaped roommate. Then why did I ask Y/N to help me look for Minho in the first place? Jisung asks himself as he scratches his head in the hopes that his last functioning braincell could make a quick decision.

“Ji?” You elbow him gently when he takes too long to think. Only then does he notice that you’ve already taken a step back from the village limits, body twisted and facing the path back. “Let’s go back, maybe it’s better looking for Lee Know in the morning.”

“A-Ah, but—” Jisung raises his free hand, as if reaching out to you and tugging you back. Before he could finish his thought, however, he sees a brilliant white light reflect back in your eyes and when he turns around, his eyes widen at colorful lanterns approaching from the trees. “Oh, shit...”

“What the fuck is that?” You ask in a whisper, instinctively going back to Jisung’s side in fear. When the lanterns draw nearer, you start making out figures of raccoons, foxes, rabbits, and cats dancing on their hind legs. “What the hell?”

Jisung slaps a hand up to his forehead and purses his lips, gritting his teeth hardly in frustration. Too late, he thinks to himself as he turns to you, eyes wide and mouth agape in bewilderment. “Y/N, listen to me—”

But again, he’s cut off by a certain orange and white cat catching your attention, waving at you with its paws. “Hi, Y/N!” Minho waves at you casually in his cat form, his smile peeking out of the rainbow towel on his head. “We’re doing a conga line around the forest if you want to join!”

“I...” You freeze, leaning back in confusion. “T-That’s...Lee Know?”

“Um...” Jisung turns to you, meeting your unreadable expression. You look simultaneously shocked, horrified, and curious but with a small smile threatening to slip into your features. “I can explain!”

“He sounds like—”

“My roommate, Minho. Yeah, um...” Jisung scratches the nape of his neck again, instinctively stepping in front of your view to block the sight of dancing forest animals. “Listen, it’s not what it looks like! Minho, he’s...”

“Jisung—I mean, wilder things have happened in college—”

“Yeah but—” Jisung stops halfway, staring back at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “You’re not—you’re not freaked out?”

“So you are admitting that your roommate is half-cat?”

“He’s a bakeneko...”

“Bakeneko, sure, okay.” You repeat, rolling your eyes. “As I was saying, you dragged me out here at 2 AM to look for ‘your cat,’ knowing there’s a slight risk of me finding out who the cat actually is, then you react like this when it does happen? I’m surprised, of course, but you really should’ve thought about that.”

A part of Jisung heaves a sigh of relief but another part of him panics even further which is only amplified with the music growing louder behind him as more animals pass by. “Yeah, well, I did thought about that but I really needed help looking for Minho because he left without a note and I didn’t expect that he’d be out here partying tonight!”

This time, it’s you slapping a hand to your face. “Jesus Christ, and here I thought you guys were at least sharing one braincell.” You sigh, to which Jisung immediately protests at. You ignore, him, however, and gesture for the growing line of dancing animals. “So, should we stop him? But, then, it looks like it’s enjoying itself! “But it looks like it’s enjoying itself!—I mean, Minho! Minho looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

Jisung opens his mouth to speak but, for the second time tonight, he’s accidentally cut off again by Minho, this time by said roommate suddenly materializing on his shoulders. “Are here to pick me up?” Minho asks him, the way his normal human voice comes out of his cat form momentarily surprising you from the corner of his eyes and catching his attention. “Oh, hi, Y/N! Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see me like this! Ya, Han Jisung, why did you bring Y/N along?”

“Because you just left the house without telling me where you’re going, dumbass! How would I know if you weren’t suddenly kidnapped or something!” Jisung complains in response, flicking Minho’s forehead. “And get off my shoulder, fatass, you’re so heavy. Have you been eating spirits food again?”

You clear your throat awkwardly, waving at the two boys before they could engage in a full-on argument. “Yeah, I’m still here, guys?”

Minho and Jisung glance back at you then to each other, as if in contemplation. You raise an eyebrow nervously at this.

“Hyung, is it okay that Y/N saw you?” Jisung asks Minho in a hushed whisper.

“Do I really look fat tonight?” Minho frowns, to which Jisung groans at.

“Dude, come on, I’m asking you a matter of your security and you ask me if you’re looking fat.”

“Because Y/N saw me!”

Jisung sighs. “Fine, then, yes you do...you look like a really really fat cat tonight.” He answers reluctantly, to which Minho pouts even deeper at. “It must be those brownies that other cat, Felix, is always baking at these parties.”

Minho then immediately hops off of Jisung, walking over to you and encircling your ankles once. “Alright, then, I guess, Y/N, you should see me like this on another time, when I’m looking cuter! You’ll have to forget everything you saw tonight, okay? I can’t have my crush seeing me as a fat cat!”

“W-What?” You try stepping away from Minho’s circling movements but before you could even get a foot out, you already start feeling lightheaded until your vision’s fully clouded in nothing but white.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” Minho’s voice echoes in your ears before you.

Jisung is waiting for you by the fences separating your houses the next day, a seemingly rehearsed smile on his face. From what you can hazily remember of last night (which is oddly few, you’ve noticed), you last saw him banging his head against the pillars of his host family’s front porch at dinner time because the Internet connection at his place won’t let him pass his homework.

“Good morning, Ji?” You greet him as you water the plants in your front garden, unintentionally coming off as questioning. “You look...happy. Did you get to pass that homework of yours?”

The boy nods happily as he organizes the recyclables he’s supposed to take out. “Yep, passed it on time.”

You nod, opening your mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an orange and white cat emerging from your garden’s potted sunflowers. “Oh, hi!” You greet the cat, instinctively crouching down to scratch its ears to which he purrs positively to. You don’t catch it but Jisung heaves a sigh of relief when you don’t seem to recognize Minho or have any recollection of last night. “And who are you supposed to be, hm? You’re so adorable!”

From the corner of your eyes, Jisung frowns at Minho before shaking his head and answering you, “O-Oh, that’s—Lee Know, the new house cat! My host family brought him in just—just last night.”

“Just last night?” You ask, briefly looking up at Jisung and catching his frown turning into a sheepish smile. You try catching his reaction to your question but the cat brings a paw up to your hand and regains your attention again. “Didn’t they come home at like 4 PM yesterday, though? I even greeted Mr. and Mrs. Lee and I don’t remember seeing them with this cat.”

Shit, Jisung curses himself, glaring at Minho again who only sticks his tongue out discreetly at him, I was doing so well! “W-Well, Mr. Lee went out at around 9 PM, I think, when you were already inside, then he came back with the cat. It’s a stray, basically.”

You nod at this, smiling at the cat again. “Aren’t you too cute to be a stray cat, though?” You coo, making Minho smile and nuzzle his whiskers more into your hands. “And you remind me a lot of Ji’s roommate, Minho, too. Have you met him? He’s a bit of a weirdo but he’s...cute too, I guess.”

Minho so badly wants to open his mouth and protest halfway when you called him a weirdo but he puts up the facade anyway and goes around you once again. He’ll have to bring it up to you next time, when he’s human.

“Look, Ji, he likes me!” You point out excitedly to which Jisung only musters up a small smile. You then pet the cat’s head once more before standing up to continue watering your plants. “Speaking of, Minho’s okay with this? And Soonie, Doongie, Dori?”

“Yep.” Jisung reluctantly nods, kicking Minho gently with his foot when he comes back to his side of the fence. “Very much so.”

on a night much like tonight (drabble game)

@skzwriternet

75 notes · View notes

hookedonapirate · 3 years

Text

Book Update

If you've noticed I've been updating my cs fics a lot lately, it's because I had to take a break from my original fic. And I've kind of been discouraged lately because when I worked on my first book, Follow My Lead, I got stuck for a whole year where I was unable to write one word for it. And I was afraid the same thing would happen for this one I'm work on. Last time, I wasn't able to push forward with the story until I scrapped the outline. So I didn't use an outline this time.

Then I got to thinking yesturday, maybe that's why I was stuck. Because each story will be different and will not always require the same process, for me at least. Some people can't write with outlines and some can't write without them. When I'm writing Cs, I normally don't need an outline because it comes so much easier to me because I'm already connected with the characters so the stories pretty much write themselves. But that's what I struggle with when writing original fics. So, for those of you who write or plan to write fics, either original or fanfic or anything with characters, it's very important to CONNECT with your characters first. It is essential and will save you a lot of time and energy and headaches, and will be much less stressful and mentally draining.

Anywho, what I'm trying to say is I started outlining for this and was able to get through the obstacles I had before. So to celebrate having a successful writing day for this book, I'd like to share a sneak peek.

In this sneak peek, I mention the rule of three and it's inspired by a conversation I had with people at work. Before someone pointed this out, I never realized how much we actually utilize the rule of three. Then I did some research and it turned out to be perfect for the chapter I'm writing.

Teaser

“I have to say, it’s refreshing to get to talk about the exhibits with someone.”

She looks at me with with an arched brow. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Well, one, because I usually come here alone, and two, because when I came here with my ex, she had her face buried in her phone the entire time. So it was pretty much as if I went alone. Mind you, she was the one who suggested coming here. The only reason I never suggested it was because I thought she'd be bored.”

Her brows furrow, as though she’s baffled by this. “Why come to The Met just to be on your phone the entire time? That’s like going to Disney Land and waiting in the car. Or going to Universal Studios and not visiting the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.”

My eyes widen in excitement. “You’re a Harry Potter fan?”

She nods. “Are you kidding? My sister and I are diehards.”

"The books or movies?"

"Both."

I chuckle and wag a finger at her. “I knew I liked you.”

She laughs. “I'm no Seer, but I think a Harry Potter marathon might be in our future.”

“And The Stand?” I add.

“And The Big Bang.”

“Okay, fine,” I chuckle. “But aren’t there like twelve seasons?”

She nods matter of factly. “279 episodes to be exact.”

I scratch my head in uncertainty, not knowing if I can sit through that many episodes of a show I don’t really care for.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she laughs. “It’s a lot.”

“No, I’ll give it a try. Who knows, I might actually like the damn show.”

“You will, I promise.”

“Well, how about this - I’ll watch the first three episodes, and if I still don’t like it, I don't have to continue,” I suggest, certain I can sit through three episodes of pretty much anything.

“Okay, but why three? Won't you know whether you like it or not after the first episode?"

"Nope."

She narrows her eyes. "How can you be so sure?"

I shrug. “The rule of three.”

She cocks a brow. “Rule of three?”

“Yeah, we subconsciously apply it to most things in life, including the way we make decisions." When she looks at me like I just grew two heads, I expand. "The average person typically gives something or someone at most three chances before they've made up their mind about whether or not they'll stick with it. If we’re not hooked by the third joke of a standup show or the third chapter of a book or the third date with the same person, we're usually emotionally done with it at that point. As they say in baseball, three strikes you’re out."

She nods. "And third time’s a charm?"

I point a finger at her. "Exactly. If something isn’t successful after the first couple times, chances are it will be the third try. So if it's not successful after three, it’s not meant to be.”

She purses her lips in thought. “Huh, I never thought of the number three as an unspoken rule before.”

“Yeah, it works for a lot of things in life. Including survival. You can survive three minutes without breathable air or in icy water, you can survive three hours in a harsh environment, you can survive three days without drinkable water and you can survive three weeks without food. In the Marines, we lived by the rule of three when it came to survival tactics and completing tasks. Worrying about more than three things can be confusing or overwhelming. And regarding organizational structure, officers usually have fire teams of three or squads of three teams and so forth. You see trios in a lot of stories and movies, too - The Three Musketeers, Three little pigs, The Three Stooges. The Declaration of Independence has three main purposes and uses the phrase, Life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. There are a lot of other famous quotes that use clusters of three. Love, honor and obey. I came, I saw, I conquered. Stop, drop and roll. There are three meals a day, and three-course meals.” I pause when I realize I’m rambling. “I could go on, but I don’t want to bore you...if I haven’t already.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “No, not at all. It's interesting because you’re right; we do live by the rule of three.” She bites her bottom lip, pondering that thought for a moment. “So, do we usually apply that rule to sex, too? Like if the first three dates are successful, is that when a person makes up their mind to sleep with the other person?”

My cheeks heat and I chuckle, trying to ignore the nerves in my stomach. I definitely wasn't expecting that question. Certainly not from her. She just seems quiet, a little shy and kind of reserved. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. This is the same woman who invited me into the ladies' room at the diner for a hot, steamy makeout session.

Fuck.

I have to shake the thoughts out of my mind, otherwise I'll be hard as a fucking rock until I drop her off. "Well, I can't speak for women, but I think men typically decide after the first date. Sometimes long before a first date is even established. Scratch that. Definitely before that."

A shy smile tugs at her lips as she looks away, her cheeks painted with an adorable shade of rosy red. “Sorry, it's just been a while since I've dated. My last boyfriend was my highschool sweetheart."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we started dating when we were both seventeen and were together for five years. I haven't dated anyone since we broke up."

"Wow. That is a long time. As far as your question goes, I don't know if the rule of three applies in this case, regardless of gender." I scratch my head nervously, trying to answer her without saying something stupid, but it's extremely hard when her question painted a very vivid picture in my mind.

Extremely hard, indeed.

"I mean, uh...it doesn't have to? That's up to you." I clear my throat, trying to get my thoughts straight. "The point I was making before was, if I don’t like The Big Bang Theory by the third episode, chances are I won’t like the rest of the series."

"Yeah, I get it now," she laughs.

@onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @artistic-writer@ilovemesomekillianjones @hollyethecurious @gingerchangeling@ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @let-it-raines @wellhellotragic @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @sophiaaz @becausetheyrehappythisway @thislassishooked @hookedmom @resident-of-storybrooke @kateroselin @chamomileandmint @kday426 @sals86 @lawgeeks @yasbio2015 @xsajx @delightfully-difficult-pirate @wanderingjpg @squidvisious @tenaciouskittynight @biefaless @animatedshorts @lassluna @ejunkiet @melsbels @meat-pie-with-sauce @roseyflush @ivalane @tiganasummertree @nowforruin @qualitycoffeethings @nikkiemms @oncechicagolove @theonewiththeory @lostinwonderland314 @darkcolinodonorgasm @arshini01 @companion-mala @carpedzem @youareafeverdream @maguilar1028 @mayquita @courtorderedcake @shady-swan-jones @timeless-love-story @laschatzi @officerrogers @spartanguard @andiirivera @ouatpost @jarienn972 @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @distant-rose @xhookswenchx

#writing struggles #small successes #my fic #original fic #shameless self promotion

12 notes · View notes

coldwind-shiningstars · 3 years

Note

ok ok prompts!!! so, I would be Delighted by some more qinxiyao family fic (deleted scenes or things you might have wanted to include in the big bang fic but didn't get to?), or, alternately, anything in the modern tcgf au? anything at all; they're all so excellent <3

both of these are such excellent prompts I started working on both of them, but the modern au got finished first! I’ll probably both a) do a lot of edits on this and b) do the qinxiyao family fic in a week or so, but here this is for now. Also, for those not in James and my brains, this is a very small part of a very large AU! Small note, all characters appearing in this fic are trans; however, He Xuan is still very much an egg and so they are referred to throughout the fic as “he/him,” although SQX at least is aware of this and wondering when to bring it up with her. She is, however, unaware that “Ming Yi” is a stolen identity and He Xuan is actually the eco-terrorist who’s been blowing up her brother’s fish hatcheries. It’s a long story.

If Xie Lian was being honest, he didn't much like the internet. It was so bright and everything moved too fast. People used a bewildering array of slang and images. It was surprisingly difficult to avoid spending hours reading upsetting news stories. People spent days arguing about pornography.

Also, his phone didn't really connect to WiFi very well. Even by the loosest definitions of the word, he hardly counted as a netizen.

People were usually shocked when he told them this, though, because Xie Lian's best friend was one of China's most popular beauty influencers.

Xie Lian's face appeared on her Weibo with some regularity. She talked about him often. He'd gone viral three separate times on Douyin, entirely accidentally.

What Shi Qingxuan was most famous for, however, was makeup tutorials. He had never actually appeared in one of these, but, since there were very few people in the world capable of saying no to a very determined Shi Qingxuan, this was about to change. He was used to being in her charmingly decorated little apartment but not quite used to becoming a decorated thing himself. He'd even put on one of the outfits Hua Cheng had designed and sewn for him, based on some of his old dance costumes and a few frantic weeks of historical research, and kept swishing the skirts around his legs.

Shi Qingxuan started setting up, chattering away to Xie Lian as she did. "You need anything before we start? Bathroom, water, a snack? I edit my videos pretty heavily, so we can always take a break, but it’s good to be comfy."

"No, I'm fine," Xie Lian said, and then had to close his eyes when she clicked on the ring light.

He fiddled with the makeup compacts laid out on the table.

Shi Qingxuan adjusted her light, scootched Xie Lian’s chair a little to the left and a little back, and then fiddled with the camera. It was quite the involved operation, Xie Lian thought; he knew a lot went into making videos, but he hadn’t realized it took this much effort before the camera was even on. Shi Qingxuan had done his makeup before, of course, but mostly just for fun, or something she could take a picture of and post on Weibo. It had been so long since he'd been filmed.

He watched Shi Qingxuan press record on her camera and then sit back and flash it a smile, putting on her Influencer Face. She squeezed his hand under the table.

“Hi everyone, welcome to Feng Shi!” she said, chirpy. “I’m Shi Qingxuan, and today we’re doing xianxia makeup with my good friend, Xie Lian. Now, for this look, we’re going to need…”

When Xie Lian was little, the makeup artists for his dance troupe had known he took about twice as long as anyone else did to get his makeup done. He was the darling of the company, though, so this was tolerated with fondness.

He didn't like the way the foundation felt on his face when it dried. His eyes watered when they put on eyeliner. He liked to spin his chair from side to side.

He'd had much worse things on his face than paint since then, and had learned how to be still.

Shi Qingxuan patted his hand cheerfully as she pulled out the setting powder.

"You're always one of my favorite models," she said. "You're so photogenic and so patient!"

"Thank you," Xie Lian said, and held still while she brushed it in his face.

Ruoye, probably noticing the warmth, slithered out of Xie Lian's robes and curled up on top of his head so she could get the full blast of heat from the ring light. She flickered out her tongue to scent Shi Qingxuan when she leaned in with a liquid eyeliner pen.

Shi Qingxuan made little kissy sounds at her, which only confirmed Xie Lian's certainty that he had good taste in friends. Most people were startled by Ruoye originally, but how they responded to her after Xie Lian introduced them was a good litmus test.

Ruoye settled in, and Xie Lian reached up a finger to stroke her scales.

He was feeling good, content and warm, happy to sit still. Then the apartment door clicked open, and Xie Lian stiffened.

"Ming-xiong? Is that you?" Shi Qingxuan called.

Ming Yi mumbled something back and shuffled into the room, buried deep in his black hoodie. As always, Xie Lian's first thought upon seeing him was wondering how he could see through all that hair.

The hoodie had a fish skeleton painted on it that he recognized instantly as one of Hua Cheng's drawings; it made Xie Lian smile, thinking of how insistent San Lang was that they absolutely weren't friends, no way, there was no particular reason he would make custom hoodies for Ming Yi. The fish were a coincidence. He’d even made Ming Yi custom salmon breakup boots while proclaiming it meant nothing.

Xie Lian, wearing an elaborate hanfu Hua Cheng had designed, sewn, and embroidered himself, even making him a period-appropriate duduo to flatten his chest, absolutely did not buy any of these excuses. Hua Cheng covered people he cared about with his art.

Ming Yi grunted a greeting and wandered off, probably to raid the fridge. Shi Qingxuan winked at Xie Lian.

“I’ll edit most of this out,” she said, conspiratorial, “But my viewers love Ming-xiong. Especially when he’s out of focus in the background. They’ve made memes. I haven’t told them anything about him. It’s good to keep a little mystery! It keeps people watching.”

Xie Lian, having no real idea what she was talking about, smiled and suppressed his instinct to nod. Shi Qingxuan began painting a flower on his forehead with red pigment.

Finally, Shi Qingxuan gently removed Ruoye from Xie Lian’s head and shoulders and settled a wig cap over his hair, then the wig she’d pre-prepared. A few bobby pins, a few tucks, and then she stepped back, grinning.

“Ta-dah! How do you like it, taizi dianxia?”

“It’s beautiful,” Xie Lian said, honestly.

“We’ll end the video here, I think,” she said, “But I’ll get some posed photos of you to edit in here if that’s alright. Oh, tilt your head back and forth a little? Good. Smile at the camera!”

Shi Qingxuan fluttered her fingers at the camera in a wave; Xie Lian waved too, a few seconds later. As she leaned forward to click off the camera he straightened his legs out to try and loosen them up. His knees made terrible crunching sounds as they stretched.

“You can take a little break if you want,” Shi Qingxuan said. “I’ll set up the area where we’ll take photos, but I’ll try to make it quick. You’re a darling for sitting through all this, you know?"

She was already bustling around again. She seemed to have an endless fountain of energy; Xie Lian found it admirable. He laid flat on his back on her bed, careful to not get makeup on her sheets or wrinkle his clothes. Ming Yi sat next to him, eating shrimp chips. He put a few directly into Xie Lian's mouth, feeding him like a little bird, and Xie Lian felt warm. Like Hua Cheng, it could be hard to know when Ming Yi liked you, but there were ways to tell.

He let Shi Qingxuan pose him until she was satisfied with the numbers of pictures she’d taken, trying very hard not to feel like the chuunibyou teenager he’d once been. He felt himself mostly immune to embarrassment at this point, but he supposed there were always exceptions.

Eventually, they cleaned up, although Xie Lian had promised Hua Cheng to show off the full look, so he didn’t get changed or clean his face.

“I’ll buy dinner,” Shi Qingxuan said. “We deserve it. You too, Ming-xiong!”

She herded them both out of the apartment and down the street to a small noodles stall. They all ordered (in He Xuan’s case, three bowls) and Xie Lian was fumbling for his phone when he heard Shi Qingxuan cheerfully tell the clerk to put it all on the same ticket. She tapped her phone to pay for it all before Xie Lian could protest.

A few people asked Xie Lian for pictures as they ate. He posed obligingly, hoping he hadn't spilled any sauce on his clothes while eating. When he was done, he packed up his leftovers, let Shi Qingxuan nag him into calling a Didi instead of trying to walk home, and bid both her and Ming Yi farewell. Ruoye, who had spent most of the time they were eating in Xie Lian's backpack, made a brief appearance too like she wanted to say goodbye as well.

Xie Lian clicked his own apartment door closed quietly and tiptoed over to slide his leftovers into the refrigerator. Down the hall, a light shone out from underneath Hua Cheng's studio door.

There was an old picture of the two of them on the fridge; it was them in a hospital pediatric ward group room. Xie Lian, age fifteen, was beaming at the camera, his "FIGHT! JUVENILE SLE" shirt a bright red and his pants an immaculate white. Next to him, Hua Cheng, his right eye patched with patterned tape, bald and tiny, stared up at him with devotion.

Ruoye bonked her head gently on the freezer door. Xie Lian pulled out one of her mice and slid her gently into her tank before giving her the treat; she was swallowing the mouse as he left the kitchen.

Hua Cheng turned to him as Xie Lian opened the door to his studio. His eye got wide, and his face looked like it did sometimes when he looked at Xie Lian, like he was seeing something holy. He slid his headphones off his ears.

Xie Lian did a little twirl for him, letting him see the way the fabric moved, and then tilted his face up for a kiss when Hua Cheng came over to him.

“Gege, you look beautiful,” he said.

“San Lang,” said Xie Lian. “It’s all you and Qingxuan. I’ll get her to send you the pictures later.”

Hua Cheng kissed the top of his head. He was dressed down, in a soft shirt and pants, not wearing his prosthetic eye. Xie Lian leaned his head into Hua Cheng’s chest.

“Gege seems tired,” Hua Cheng said. “Would you like to get ready for bed? Do you need dinner or your medicine? I can help you take all that off.”

“San Lang, you’re working,” Xie Lian said. “I already ate, so I think I’d like to sleep. But you don’t have to help.”

"Gege is more important than commissions," Hua Cheng said, and Xie Lian let him bundle him off to bed.

post about prompts!

#replies #my writing #body in abyss heart in paradise #paradife-loft

16 notes · View notes

aquilamage · 3 years

Text

New fic dropping time!!!! So, there's german in this fic, which I will be putting translations for at the end. I only have very very rudimentary German knowledge and some research, so if I've gotten something wrong let me know. Also, I decided to lean more into my nonbinary Klavier headcanon and experiment with he/they pronouns for Klavier throughout the narrative! Also also big shoutout to @unnecessarygayfeelings for the conversation that inspired basically the whole framework of this and then being so encouraging with me on writing it ^-^

When Klavier finds themself developing feelings for his former classmate turned recent coworker, they attempt to conceal it behind a language barrier. A plan which, due to some major miscalculations, explodes spectacularly in his face.

Klavier paced the area of their office, fingers snapping at their side with the swaying of their arm. His music was turned up, the kind of loud where he could feel the beat in his body, and yet still not enough to drown out his extraneous thoughts as he tried to concentrate. There were still two days before this robbery case went to trial, but that only meant they had no excuses not to have everything perfekt.

On a dime, he spun around, pointing dramatically at the evidence displayed on his monitors. Of course! There were only a couple of footprints outside the shop, and none of them were the owner’s, which meant……

Well, they weren’t sure.

Sighing, they leaned their elbow against the window. As he gazed out it, he noticed a smudge on the glass, not too high for him to reach, but taller than he’d expect to casually put his hand or forehead. He frowned. Where had that come from? There was a cloth for cleaning that somewhere around here – technically someone came in to clean the prosecutor’s offices, but the one time it had been done for him, their reorganization had sent him into a panic when he couldn’t find what he needed, so now he took care of it himself.

Klavier was in the middle of rearranging their guitar cabinet when they paused, and blinked. What was he doing? He’d realized the display case could look better when he’d walked over to put a stack of papers in his file cabinet, which he’d gathered up after doing something…with his chair? Which they’d only gotten to sometime in looking for that cleaning cloth… They glanced over at the monitors.

Right, the case.

With a groan, he ran a hand up his face, bunching his bangs up into his hair. Coffee. They needed caffeine, and maybe a snack.

The office break room wasn’t exactly his first choice for somewhere to get a drink, considering they only had a half-decent coffee machine, sugar, and a few flavors of creamer, while Klavier’s usual orders were of the sort that ended up sounding like some obscure secret code. But despite the initial hubbub about their leaving mid-tour to return to the legal world dying down, they couldn’t bank on going out without running into at least a small group of fans, and lunch was still a ways off. This way he could go about his business and get back to the office unbothered.

Or at least, less bothered. As he approached, he could hear running water, and faintly some kind of voice. He walked in without pause. So far, none of his coworkers had given him trouble, and he wasn’t about to be intimidated by the potential of it now.

Still, it was a pleasant surprise when they found Sebastian at the counter, filling up the electric kettle. “Schatzi!” they called, “how are you?”

He turned, the tiny frown of puzzlement quickly morphing into a smile. “Klavier, hi! Making tea,” he said, holding up the kettle. “Oh! Do you want some?”

Ach, he was so cute. “Nein, danke. I am here to tackle this beast.” Gently, he slapped the top of the coffee machine. The puff of laughter he received in response made him feel almost dizzy (which they might have blamed on needing to eat had they not already accepted the existence of their feelings).

Even as he began setting up his drink, Klavier couldn’t help but sneak glances over at his former classmate. At Themis, their relationship had been…complicated, although the Sebastian of then probably wouldn’t have described it as such. The last time they’d seen each other had been pre-graduation, and as he embarked on his musical career, Klavier had been perfectly willing to leave even the memory of his old acquaintance behind. Hop forward seven years, though, and…

Some things about Sebastian hadn’t changed. He still had trouble with words, and when he listened to music (and sometimes otherwise), he conducted along with it. This soft, airy piece felt constricted being projected from a mere phone speaker, but the gentle precise looping motions of his hand coaxed it back into life, and something more than that.

Despite the consistencies, much more of Sebastian had changed than hadn’t. When Klavier had started back at the office, Sebastian had been one of the first prosecutors they’d met. Sebastian approached them on his own and introduced himself – whether he was aiming for a fresh start or thought Klavier had forgotten him, they didn’t know. His confidence in his actions was less in volume than Klavier was used to, but solid, and that had piqued their curiosity from the beginning.

At the end of their little talk, he’d glanced up and down the hall and said “I’m sorry about your brother.” It was soft and sad and the only time he brought the subject up. They were still sorting out their feelings about that, although after some research they had an idea of where he was coming from. From that angle, at least, they could appreciate the sentiment.

Sebastian fumbled over words now instead of getting them wrong outright, Klavier had noticed over the following days, as he decided to pursue the connection the other had started. And the conducting...the conducting was very endearing.

He seemed to notice Klavier then, halting mid-motion. “Sorry,” he muttered, folding his arms.

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” they said, projecting as much reassurance as they could with the softness of their eyes, the angle of their posture.

“...Okay.” He eased into a little smile, leaning back against the counter. There was just the lightest dusting of freckles under his eyes, a few shades off from his hair.

“Um, do you need help with something?”

“Mm?” Then Klavier realized they were still staring while Sebastian had been looking at them. “Ah, I’m fine! Just a little distracted.” He left off by what. Less information was better in this kind of situation, and if Sebastian did ask, he would just come up with something.

A nod. Then, a few seconds later. “When you’re done, can I get something from that cabinet?”

Fast as he could, he punched the last couple buttons to start brewing and leaned down to open the door. “Let me help you with that. What do you need, liebling?”

“Oh, thanks. The orange blossom?” When Sebastian asked a question, his mouth went together a little, like he was going to pout but stopped midway through.

There were a lot of boxes of tea in there, but eventually they located the right one and emerged holding the bag aloft. “für dich, Süßer,” they said, using their most dazzling smile.

Sebastian laughed. (And people told Klavier his voice sounded pretty.)

After a second, they realized their friend was tilting his head to the side, watching them. “...sorry, did you say something?”

“Is that the only one?”

Klavier shook his head. “Nein, but,” he looked at the mug on the counter (with a colorful logo of some place he’d never heard of on one side and on the other plain text that read “They Didn’t Have My Name”). It was relatively large, but, “how strong do you like this?”

Oh, no, I-” Turning, he moved over a pair of travel mugs. When Klavier raised their eyebrows, he frowned. “It stays really warm that way and it’s easier than going back all the time!”

“Wie geht es dir so süß?” When Sebastian’s defensive look only intensified, he waved a hand. “That’s clever of you.” The little smile they got in response to that made their heart soar. “Ah,” he ducked back down before he started grinning to the point of being obvious even to Sebastian, “three, then?”

“Yes.” Still smiling, he took the tea from them. He poured out the water, carefully unwrapping all the packets before dropping the bags in with an almost meditative kind of concentration. This too, was new for Klavier to witness. And again, something he found himself the opposite of minding.

The coffee maker beeped. As he grabbed his own mug, he realized something. “How do you plan on getting those back?”

Sebastian, who was holding the mug in both shaky hands, grinned and made a motion as if to pick the others up in the crook of his arms.

Ah. “Well, I have a free hand. May I-” they reached toward the mug. “That way if one of us gets spilled on it’s the one with the darker shirt.” More importantly, it would be him and not Sebastian, but he wasn’t saying that out loud. Not today.

Besides, it really would be a shame to ruin the mostly-pastels of his outfit. The blue of his tailcoat especially was. Really nice on him. Had Sebastian always been this cute, and if so how on earth had they missed it before?

They headed out in the hallway. “How are you doing? It’s been a little while.”

“You mean three days?” he smirked. A moment later, his expression drew back to neutral. “That was a joke.”

Klavier simply nodded. Sebastian still didn’t get tone all the time, even if he was more aware of it, so they weren’t about to argue with him trying to be considerate about that kind of thing.

“But...it’s been pretty good. Kay and I got put on the same case, which is a lot, especially since we can’t talk about it when we’re home.” As he talked, his hands moved. He probably would have been more cautious if he had something open, but it still made Klavier glad he was the one holding the mugs. “Yeah. I’m min- managing.”

See, this would be the perfect opportunity to extend an offer to help him take his mind off things for a while. Invite him out to dinner. Smooth and casual, with the potential to back into something platonic, worst case.

And oh, they wanted to. But it wasn’t the right time. He still had his hands full investigating what happened to Kristoph, into that Justice character and his connection to Herr Wright. It would be enough just juggling two careers and keeping a new relationship insulated from the public, without everything else he was dealing with right then.

Besides, he was pretty sure Herr Edgeworth would bite his head off if he got that close to his protege.

So instead they said, “Well, I’m glad you are, liebling,” with all the genuine warmth they had. (He couldn’t help the little bit of pride at the statement; even if he wasn’t able to express his affection directly, it didn’t mean he had to restrain himself either. With his extra language, he could use terms of affection while everyone around remained none the wiser.)

They reached Sebastian’s office. Shifting the thermoses to one side, he opened the door for Klavier. The little half-bow he did after, indicating for him to go inside, almost made Klavier drop a mug.

In the end, though, it got safely to Sebastian’s desk, on a coaster decorated with a pattern of sheet music that seemed like a real song but wasn’t one Klavier recognized on sight. “There. All set.”

“Thanks, Klavier.” He beamed as he walked over next to him.

Something else that had changed: Sebastian had grown a few inches in the years since they’d known him at school. He hadn’t been cute in the ‘small’ sense since he’d shot up what seemed like a foot during the break between their first and second years, but now he’d filled comfortably into his height (the same as Klavier), and it was something to think they could just step forward and-

But Klavier restrained themself. Not now.

Sebastian stopped on the other side of the desk. “Do you...want to stay here for a while? I can move stuff off the couch or the other chair while you get your stuff.”

Ach, be still his beating heart. “I appreciate the offer, but-”

“Sebastian, how are things coming along with the-” Herr Edgeworth stuck his head in through the door, stopping when he noticed Klavier. His expression didn’t change, save for an extra wrinkle on his forehead.

If he wasn’t leaving already…

“Ah, I’ll let you two get to work.” Grabbing up his mug, he smiled briefly at Sebastian before walking out. As he twisted past Herr Edgeworth, who was looking the other direction, he couldn’t resist calling out “bis spater, schatz!”

It was such a little thing, but it made them smile all the way back to their office. And, a little later on in the day, gave them the tiniest of laughs when they went to the Chief Prosecutor’s office. This was just a normal check-in, so things went smoothly. Herr Edgeworth’s few glances at them were a little more like glares, but he said nothing that didn’t relate to the business at hand, so they were more than willing to let it be.

They were interrupted when the phone rang. He checked the number, then frowned. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

“No problem,” they said, leaning back in their chair.

“Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth speaking.” A few moments of listening and then he sighed “Yes, Franziska, I know-,” walking to the far corner of the room. There, he continued talking, softer.

Klavier couldn’t make out what was being said. Nor was he interested in listening in. But still, after a few exchanges, something about the sound pricked his ears. As he tried to pay attention, it still took him a second, since he had to switch his brain over to German. They weren’t sure why they’d suddenly started paying attention, though; it was just about a case Interpol needed help wi-

Oh. Something heavy dropped in his stomach, squashing his insides together. His brain was still taking in everything happening around him as if from far away, but neither thoughts nor movement were happening for him. Which was a shame, because if he could control his body he might be long gone by now.

Instead, he sat there for the rest of the conversation, and as Herr Edgeworth walked all the way back over to face him. “Prosecutor Gavin,” he said, usual neutrality tinged with the tone of a polite cough.

For a terrifying moment, he could only stare up at where his boss was carefully rearranging papers on his desk. Thoughts came back first, of course. There was no way circumstances would be kind to them. And the first one was that he knew. Worse, he knew that Klavier knew now. The fact that he was avoiding the subject was a relief in that he didn’t suddenly have to figure out what to say, but it didn’t help the pain in his gut or the heat in his face.

“May I be excused for the rest of the day?” He was already embarrassed enough that the strained tone of his voice, once he finally regained use of it, barely even registered.

There was a slight pause, Herr Edgeworth still staring down at his files, before he said, “...Yes.”

The hall outside was a blur, a few people they saw but didn’t process passing them as they stumbled through with whatever the opposite of mindfulness is. He felt a right mess, but none of that mattered right now. He just needed to get outside, to get home, and not think about this for the rest of the d-

“Klavier?”

The voice jolted him out of his state, and he tripped over his feet, falling to the ground. He managed to pick his bag up, but immediately dropped it again when he saw who it was.

Sebastian rushed over. “Are you okay?” A frown. “You shouldn’t be at work like this.”

Ducking their head to hide the new bout of warmth they felt across it, they said, “Nein, ach, ja that- which is why I am on my way home.” Trying to stand, they were met by an arm being thrust toward them. After a brief hesitation, Klavier allowed Sebastian to pull them upright.

Even once he’d gotten his bearings, though, Sebastian didn’t release him. “Let me help you,” he said and, gentle but insistent, started guiding him down the hall.

“Th-there’s no need. It’s not that bad.” The moment he started to tug out of the grip, Sebastian let go entirely. Not expecting it, he tripped again, although not falling this time.

Sebastian’s frown deepened and he flapped his hands, once. “Well I’m not letting you drive yourself home, so there! I’m taking you.”

Ach, his expression was adorable, and were it not for the twin incidents of this morning putting lead butterflies in his stomach Klavier would have gladly let him. “Nein, I couldn’t take you away from your work. I’ll call a taxi.” They tried for their usual smooth tone. Instead, they got almost as squeaky as their words to Herr Edgeworth.

“It’s fine! I was going to take my lunch now anyway.” With a smile in his eyes, he held out his hand once again.

“...I wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

He shrugged. “I’ve only gotten sick off Kay once in all the times she’s ever been sick, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Klavier went to protest again, but his throat was dry and crackly, and worse, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. So he sighed and took the hand.

Even if Sebastian would’ve thought it was from not being well, they were thankful for his gloves keeping him from feeling how gross their palms were – like a teenager on their first date. Sebastian took them along at normal walking speed, with a “let me know if we’re going too fast” after the first couple steps.

All Klavier could think about was the firm, gentle grip on his hand, the place where their arms interlocked (for added stability, but his mind kept going to images of how people led around their dates at formal events), the way their fingers interlaced… He didn’t even notice Sebastian had taken them into the stairwell until the first step. Oh. It was fine. This just meant this would take longer, he thought, as Sebastian held his hand a little tighter.

Not that he fancied this, but being stuck in the elevator with his coworkers as potential witnesses wasn’t any better. Herr Edgeworth wasn’t a gossip; he wouldn’t tell anyone, but if Klavier didn’t know one person’s language capabilities (or even whether they’d look things up, he realized with a jolt, remembering an interviewer joking about spikes in German translation searches after any Gavinners concert), how could he assume anyone’s?

(Would Herr Edgeworth tell Sebastian, considering? Or would someone else, if they knew? Had they not been on a landing at the moment of that thought he certainly would’ve taken a real tumble.)

By the time they got to the parking lot, Klavier would've believed they were sick themself, their head dizzy and fever-flushed. They didn’t protest at all as Sebastian helped them into the passenger seat. A brief glance in the side mirror revealed their hair to be out of place just enough to bother them and them alone, face if not red then certainly off from their usual color. Closing their eyes, they sank back against the cushions and headrest. Now they could sleep, or at least pretend to (and ignore the phantom feeling of Sebastian’s hand on theirs).

Although he did peek them open when the radio crackled on with the car, playing some upbeat pop song that Sebastian quickly turned off.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Do you want me to switch it to something you like, or keep it off?”

Ah, he was so considerate it made Klavier want to cry. He’d probably ask about the temperature next. (He did, once Klavier said he was fine with whatever).

All that time spent sleeping on tour buses really helped him sit comfortably during the ride, the biggest bother being that Sebastian was right there. He couldn’t quite stop thinking about it, with everything that was happening. So it only kind of felt excruciatingly long. They were ever so grateful that Sebastian seemed fine with silence between them.

Finally, they pulled up at Klavier’s house. “Do you want me to-” Sebastian asked as Klavier unbuckled his seat belt.

Even though his legs did feel a bit wobbly, he wasn’t sure if he could handle another round of being so close to Sebastian. Or that he wouldn’t have trouble letting go at the end. “I can manage this much, don’t worry.” They almost added a ‘schatz’ at the end, catching themself just in time.

A nod. Then, he reached into the center console, grabbing some receipt. Even as Klavier watched, transfixed, he scribbled out a phone number and handed it to him. “Uh, here. If you start feeling worse and need something, let me know, ok?”

Klavier could only nod back and try not to think about the fact that Sebastian had just given him his number (step two: immediately failed). With a lack of grace that would've made headlines had a music reporter been around, he got out of the car and in through the door, shutting it behind without a single backwards glance. They collapsed face first onto the couch and screamed into the cushion – the kind of head and throat scream exactly how they’d long ago been trained not to do.

Once he finally stilled into silence, Vongole padded over, pushing her head under his palm.

With a sigh, he moved just enough to scratch her behind the ears. The soft warmth of her fur was grounding to run his fingers through, and soon, between that and simply lying down, his body relaxed.

When he finally sat up, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag before heading to his room. After all they’d been through, they needed to relax. He took off his makeup and changed to a t-shirt and the one pair of sweatpants he owned. As he threw his other clothes over a chair, the paper he’d stuck in a pocket earlier fell to the ground. Sebastian’s number. Klavier snatched it up and threw it on their bedside table – they’d deal with the...everything...related to that later.

A while later he sat back on the couch, this time with lunch and Vongole curled up at his feet as he picked out a movie. (His first instinct was one of the bubblegum teen movies he re-watched when he wanted something fun – the romance plot in those might hit a little too close to home, though. Instead, he went for a cooking show. Safe, basic, still entertaining). He watched it through, and then several more, with breaks for more food and a brief walk with Vongole. It was nice. Klavier couldn’t remember when they’d last just taken some time off – usually having too little to do made them antsy, but between also petting Vongole and idly shopping on their phone, it made for a pleasant one-off afternoon.

He was dozing off when a knock at the door startled him. Groggily pushing a few loose strands of hair back, he stared in that direction. Just as he was about to lie back down, the knock repeated itself.

Only after a third repeat, moments later, did they actually get up. The list of people who would know where he lived was short, and his phone had lost battery a little while ago without him getting up to recharge it.

It was Sebastian. There was a surge of panic at how he’d gotten there before he remembered being given a lift earlier. “Hallo,” he managed, leaning against the door frame.

“Hi. Uh,” he ran his thumb over the ridges of the lid of the plastic container he was holding. “Sorry about showing up without saying anything, but I’d already made the soup when I ra- realized I didn’t have a way to message you, and I know it’s hard cooking when you don’t feel good so-” He held it out to Klavier.

It was warm, and as the container got closer they could faintly smell rich broth. Sebastian had made them food. Made them food and brought it over without being asked because he was concerned for them.

Then he realized he was staring. “Ach, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine! You seem pretty tired; have you been resting?”

Oh, heck. In answering the door, he’d completely forgotten to take his appearance into account, and now here he was, top three most disheveled he’s ever been in front of someone not family, and it was with Sebastian. “Ja,” he squeaked out, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him already.

Instead, Vongole bounded out the door and at Sebastian, barking happily.

“You have a dog!” he said, reaching down to pet her even as she insistently pushed herself up against him. With a laugh, he ruffled her fur, muttering something Klavier couldn’t quite pick up.

“Ah, Vongole, sitz.”

She did, still basking in Sebastian’s attention, tail thumping against the porch.

Sebastian laughed again, and scratched her behind the ears. Looking up at Klavier, he said, “oh, those glasses are cute on you.”

Ah, they’d forgotten about those too. He rarely wore them; glasses covered up too much of his face and just weren’t very comfortable. The only reason he had them on now was because he didn’t want to fall asleep in his contacts again. It was regular ones for work and everyday, with color for-

Wait, did Sebastian just call them cute?

Before they could react, though, he spoke again. “I should probably get going.” The end of his sentence turned up almost into a question, but he stood up. A smile. “Um, let me know if you’re coming in tomorrow, if you’re up for it?” Then, even softer. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Klavier waved, staying at the door until Sebastian’s car pulled away. Then he buried his head in his hands. As he brought Vongole inside, he considered screaming again, but he was too tired. Instead, he had just enough presence of mind to put the soup in the fridge before collapsing into bed, asleep.

They woke up disoriented, this time because it was completely dark out. Reaching to the other side of their bed, they went to check the time on their phone. Except it wasn’t there. A panicked five minutes of searching later and they remembered leaving it in the living room, battery dead.

It was a bit past eleven. Well, he was hungry, so he went to the fridge, and of course the first thing he saw was the soup. It was a rich chicken noodle, a hearty mix of vegetable and grain and meat, and when he taste-tested to check the temperature he had to take a minute. Klavier didn’t consider himself a cook by any stretch of the definition, but he knew good food when he ate it. This was simple, but well made, and remembering that Sebastian had made it for him put a lump in his throat for a second.

They were going to have to go back into work tomorrow, and face the facts of what they’d done. Which…really, they were fine. Probably. Klavier wasn’t doing anything wrong, at worst being a little unprofessional. It was just that Herr Edgeworth didn’t approve – and he would never leverage his power against Klavier for something personal, he knew that.

The easiest option, in terms of avoiding potential future issues, was to back away from contact with Sebastian completely. But they didn’t want to avoid their friend, even if they would only ever be friends, and it wouldn’t be fair to Sebastian either. But if he simply dropped off the endearments and did nothing else like it, within a week or so it would be like they never happened, and everything would be fine for all of them.

--------------

translations:

schatz/schatzi - treasure

nein, danke - no, thank you

liebling - darling

für dich, Süßer - for you, sweet/honey

Wie geht es dir so süß - how are you so cute

#I will be getting this up on the fic sites but it's too late for that tonight. will put the links for that in my morning rb #Klavier Gavin #Sebastian Debeste #klavbastian #Miles Edgeworth #Ace Attorney #rambles #my writing #fanfiction

27 notes · View notes

sourwolfstories · 4 years

Note

Hey! Do you have long fic recommendations? Can you involve some soulmate fics but AU are welcome too Long like 50k, 100k+ but really ill read anything

Soulmate fics (at least 50K)

When the Universe Comes Knocking (It’s Polite to Open the Door) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

It was like a door he’d nailed shut in his brain suddenly exploded open, all of his past confusion and anger and hurt and adoration flooding out at once. Stiles? Was it actually Stiles?!

Stiles, the guy he’d had a crush on for fucking years growing up. The guy who’d been an absolute dick to him their whole last year of high school.

The guy who’d told him he loved him in a dirty men’s bathroom on prom night while drunk and upset because he thought Kira was Derek’s girlfriend.

That Stiles? But it couldn’t be!

Marks and Mics by DLanaDHZ

Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski's music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they're incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles' bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek's soulmate remains elusive.

Written Can’t Be Denied by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

Since time immemorial the story of ‘soulmates’ has persisted. In short, the idea that somewhere out there is your perfect match, the one person who can complete you and with whom you can find total happiness.

The story goes that, the first time you meet your ‘soulmate’, the universe will give you a sign in what should be the most obvious way - somewhere in your immediate vicinity the word ‘soulmate’ will appear. If reports of ‘soulmates’ are to be believed, rather than being written of as hopeful delusions, then this ‘obvious’ signal is anything but, fleeting as it is. The word seemingly only appears for a matter of moments and only when two people first meet. There is no guarantee that they will be looking in the correct direction to see it, nor that they will have any idea who their supposed ‘soulmate’ actually is.

A fact that causes havoc the day that up and coming actor, Stiles Stilinski holds up a bottle emblazoned with the word 'soulmate' in the middle of a press conference where Derek Hale is working as a photographer, in the middle of the worst day of his life...

Connected by readridinghood

After the death of his wife, Stiles finds himself left alone with their three children, struggling to keep from being sucked into a void of grief and despair that her death left him with. Knowing his children are safe in the pack's arms under Derek's watchful eyes, he struggles to regain his footing. What do you do when the world keeps tumbling over you and what you've thought of as fact no longer holds true? As the world comes back into focus, so does the love for Derek he thought he'd long since conquered and now with his eyes open, what he thought was the end of him, is only a new beginning. A decade after he fell in love with Stiles, countless days of keeping himself restrained while building a friendship with him, Derek finds out with absolute certainty that Stiles is his mate. You only mate once in your life, so how is it that Stiles was mated to Sophia, his wife and mother of his three children, the woman he is grieving the loss of at the same moment that Derek makes his discovery.

Three Marks by sanam

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

Other fics (at least 50K)

Rich Man, Poor Man by TyReed

During a first date gone horribly wrong, Stiles Stilinksi realizes that the snarky guy he's been asked out by is actually Derek Hale, an heir to Hale Industries, one of the most profitable companies in the entire world. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in the son of a teacher and a cop, a loser who spends all weekend watching movies in his pajamas, and who is also possibly one of the biggest dorks on the Internet.

At the same time, after screwing up their first date horribly, Derek Hale realizes that the funny guy he's asked out is Stiles Stilinksi, the warmest and kindest individual he's ever met in his life, with a family just a loving and caring. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in a guy who screws up everything he does, lacks any semblance of a backbone, and who is possibly one of the biggest history dorks in all of the United States.

These rich and poor men will come to experience a taste of each other's lives, and learn where the real blessings in the world can be found.

Feel it like a fever, burning through the night by LunaCanisLupus_22

“That was my favourite fern,” Deaton declares and Stiles glances at Scott for clarification that such a ridiculous statement just came out of his boss’ mouth.

“You could have just told me not to touch it,” Stiles points out sensibly, squirming inside with something he refuses to believe might be guilt.

Not about the dumb plant, but the instant devastation he’s currently overwhelmingly and inescapably capable of. He can destroy with one touch now.

This is going to complicate things so much.

Or the one where Stiles tries to do the noble self-sacrificing thing: gains a new power, a spectral skin colour and basically ruins his own life. 0/10 would not recommend.

It’s (Not) a Cult by lhr111

“Well Stiles, you told me a few weeks ago that you thought Derek was leading a cult.”

At that Derek whipped his head toward Stiles in shock. “You thought I was a cult leader?”

Stiles will not be shamed. “Well, either you or Peter. Peter made more sense, but since he deferred to you that one time I was a little unsure. I mean, what else could I think with all the weird shit going on. You, hanging out with random high school seniors, doing secret things, ordering them around like you are their parent, them actually doing what you tell them. It’s really weird, okay?”

“Are you familiar with Harry Potter?” Derek asks.

Talk about a non sequitur. “What? What does that have to do with anything? And, of course I know Harry Potter!”

“Well to quote Sirius Black, ‘Once again you’ve put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual come to the wrong conclusion.’"

The Sheriff starts snickering, and Stiles is both insulted and also a little in love.

Call Me (Cliché) by SomewheresSword

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

There’s No Escape for the Potato Man by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Who is this? Where’s Erica?”

“Wrong number, asshole!”

“Stop calling me an asshole,” the man on the other end snapped aggressively.

Stiles could understand. He’d be pretty aggressive too if he’d murdered someone and texted a wrong number to ask for help burying the body. This guy obviously failed How To Be a Serial Killer 101.

“What kind of idiot thinks I murdered someone?”

“The kind of idiot who got your text messages, you fucking dumbass!” he retorted hotly. “Maybe double check your contacts before sending a random stranger details on your nefarious plans to dispose of a freshly cut up body!”

“What?!” the guy on the other end demanded, crossed between horrendously confused and livid.

---------------

If you want more soulmate fics you can check that tag here

you can also find more long fics here and here

Happy Reading :)

#answered #anonymous #sterek #sterek fic rec #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #soulmates au

105 notes · View notes

freykitten · 4 years

Text

Frey’s fic recs list!

I realised there’s a dry spell happening in my fic reccommendations tag (”can i interest you in this masterpiece”, perhaps with a question mark at the end idk anymore), and we’re off season, so appreciating the writers creating content now is very important, so here’s a very incomplete list of season 12 (with a smidge of CDR) fics I’m obsessed with.

It’s absolutely not all the fics I would happily rant about to everyone who listened - it’s very on top of my head - but almost all authors I mentioned have more RPDR works, so check that out and browse the tags of ships you’re interested in (that’s how I found a big part of those gems). Oh, and comment, even if it’s just keysmash or screaming. It means the world, trust me on that.

“we didn’t start the fire” by @pink-grapefruit-cafe - lesbian AU, multichap, in progress (Jankie, Ninex, Trixya + I’m hoping for Kamasia)

When I think of this story, I start smiling and bounce with excitement, because it’s just that freaking fantastic. I’m still in awe with how well Charl is executing this concept, and I stopped expecting anything less than splendind from her even before I got to know her. How does she know so much about firefighters? I’m guessing a lot of detailed research came into outlining this story and I have the most respect for that. But the plot! Okay, so it’s a firefighter AU. I can’t tell you too much not to spoil anything important, but it starts with a bang to your own head, and then it doesn’t slow down. We get to explore characters one by one, but through the lense of relationships and dynamic, and it’s done in such a smart way. I promise you’ll be hooked one paragraph in, and by the end of the first chapter- you’ll be addicted.

“A Goode Idea“ by @goodemornting - lesbian AU, one shot (Crygi)

I had and incredible pleasure of betaing it, but I’m not biased at all what I say this fic is hilarious. It’s fantastically written and had me surprised at every turn. I had the most fun reading it each time. The idea is, well, absurd. Like, literally. Crystal gets her hand stuck in a vending machine on her way to a blind date. But our girl is not a quitter, oh no, but the machine is runway commentary on Drag Race and Crystal’s hand is jokes about Michelle’s breasts. Just... can’t let it go. Thankfully, there comes salvation in a form of Gigi Goode, who’s been stood up on a blind date. Are you, like, connecting the dots here? Because they’re not. At all. This fic is prime entertainment, give it a read.

“I Remember“ by @imposterzoe - one shot (Jiji)

MY HEART WAS RIPPED OUT, SET ON FIRE, AND STEPPED ON, BUT NOT IN ATTEMPT TO PUT OUT THE FLAME. I thought about this fic and, jesus, it still hurts. It’s a great angst, truly a great one. It’s all loneliness and heartbreak and yearning that makes the lungs burn. “dear god he needed a hug. But the one person he would accept it from was in another man's arms, on the other side of the country.” - I can’t get this line out of my head and I don’t regret it - it’s a very good one, but it just hurts a lot. Incredible, incredible work.

One Direction (to your heart) by @opalescent-cheetah - lesbian AU, multichap, in progress (Jaida/Crystal)

Back to the fun stuff! IT’S A SOULMATES AU. I’M WEAK FOR SOULMATES AUs. And you might not understand my love for that trope (it’s legit my favourite one ever), but you will understand my love for that story as soon as you start it. It’s a fun spin on the soulmate tottoos trope - you’re not born with it, but once you get your first tattoo, it’s mirrored on your soulmate’s skin. And Jaida really doesn’t get the appeal of having the universe decide for you about who you’re going to love - she prefers to make that decision for herself, so when arabic letters spelling “One Direction” appear on her chest, it’s less than ideal. But she doesn’t think too much about it. That, or the fact her new coworker insists of blasting 1D songs all day long. She might not enjoy Crystal’s taste in music, but she sure enjoys her company. A lot. A whole lot.

I almost forgot to mention it, but the fact each chapter has a seperate illustration drawn for it? And they’re all so pretty? Wonderful.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered by @missjanjie - lesbian AU, multichap, in progress (Sportsdoll, Crygi)

I promised myself one rec for one author and with Joley it was the most difficult to stick to that rule (and we’ve had Charlotte on this list, and I’m whipped with everything she writes, so visualise the struggle here). But I chose this one, because it’s just!!! so good!!! Jan is a simple collage student with typical collage student problems. You know, exams, boring readings, pining for your French pen pal, morning lectures, handing in assignments on time. Crystal is her roommate, and has typical roommate problems: sharing chores, remembering which sweets are whose, and telling your secret crush you have to pretend to be in love, because your roommate decided to invite her French pen pal to your wedding, so now you have to stage everything. That’s a normal Tuesday evening for them. And an awesome story for you to follow.

“small wonder“ by wildewoman_22 - lesbian AU, one shot (Jankie)

This list is supposed to be fics that live rent-free in my head, so this one should have been put as the first one. It made me sob. It’s so unimaginably beautiful (I’m already getting tears in my eyes and I’m not even talking about the plot, oh my god). Jackie and Jan decide to have a baby, and it’s the most raw, magnificent, but also heartwarming portrayal of pregnancy and different ways to understand motherhood I’ve read. So absolutely beautiful and filled with love. Just, a masterpiece. So mindblowing.

“Some Things Are Bound To Be” by @dollalpaca - lesbian AU, multichap, in progress (Kyara)

In Polish we have that saying, “to approach something like dog would a hedgehog”, and to say that was me with that fic is like not saying anything. I love Zyanny and I’m always going to be proud of the things she creates - be it a fic, a moodboard, or a bullet journal - but I didn’t really watch CDR, and the bit I have seen didn’t convince me. So it took me a while to get to that fic. But when I did. Jesus, the only advantage of catching up on it late was the fact I didn’t have to wait for updates, because it’s so good I’d go crazy, like I am now. Kyne is an accountant in a big company, all she wants is to do her job and mind her own business. Really. Give her her papers and peace. That’s all she’s asking for. So of course she’ll get something else - a rumour she’s dating the daughter of the company’s boss. But Kiara is hot and nice and seeing her laugh makes Kyne’s heart do stupid things, so what the hell. One thing she doesn’t know is Kiara’s past, and that might complicate a few things. I don’t know Kiara’s past either and Zyan won’t tell me and I’m going crazy here. Come join me in my misery - the way her characters are written makes it all worth it.

“countless chances” by @essenceofhall - lesbian AU, one shot (Crygi)

IT’S A HARLEY QUINN/POISON IVY AU, PEOPLE. And it’s blowing my mind. The characterisation in that fic is immaculate - it’s like original personalities of Ivy and Harley were mixed with something very, very original, and it’s owned - done so surely and with so much craftmanship - they feel organic as Crystal and Gigi. This fic is the best way of creating an AU based on existing characters I’ve read, and with a lot of certainty I can say that it will remain as the best one. It’s pure brilliance. I am blown away. Impressed beyond the point of expression.

“Blue Neighborhood” by @imalwaysaslutfordrag - lesbian AU, a series of astounding one shots, in progress

I won’t write too much about this, because I probably could whip out a separate post about BN and it would be just as long. It’s one of the best stories I’ve read in my entire life, and I don’t mean just fics, I mean all literature. Every aspect I could talk about is entrancing. Phenomenal work that deserves all the praise.

#that got... long #whoops #don't regret a thing #besides not addin 50000 works more into that #can i interest you in this masterpiece?#so there is a question mark after all #support your writers please <3 #frey rambles

20 notes · View notes